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SKETCHES 



JEWISH LIFE Km HISTORY, 



BY 




HENRY GEESONI. 



I seek no riehies and no fanne ; 
To be but useful is nny ainn. 



NEW YORK: j 

HEBEEW ORPHAN ASYLUM PRINTING ESTABLISHMENT, 

76th Street, near 3d Ave. 
1873. 



75 173^ 

,a37 es 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873^ 

By H. GERSONI, 
in the office of the Libarian of Congress, at "Washinrgton. 



PREFACE. 



In this little volume I offer to the reader a few 
" Sketches of Jewish Life and History." 

The first two stories contain illustrations of Jewish 
life in Lithuania, giving an insight into the character 
and domestic circumstances of a large class of people 
verv little known in tliis country. As a native of 
Lithuania, who has also seen something of the world, 
I may be pardoned perhaps for feeling myself some- 
what qualified to describe scenes of this character. 
The reader will find, I hope, that I have treated 
my subject impartially and without prejudice. I have 
purposely used expressions here and there that are 
peculiar to the German-Jewish dialect, especially such 



iv PREFACE. 

as are inter estins; on account of tradition and custom. 
For the general reader I have given the necessary ex- 
planations either paranthetically or in marginal notes. 

" Eabbi Elchanan, a legend of Mayence," is very 
popular with the Israelites all over the world. There 
are some historical truths, I think, at the base of this 
story. A son of Rabbi Gerschon, surnamed " the 
Light of the Exiles," the predecessor of Rabbi Simeon 
of Mayence, was abducted by the Romish Clergy, and 
a prominent clergyman actually did embrace Judiasm 
a few years afterward. The legend of Rabbi Elcha- 
nan evidently makes of these two persons one, and takes 
the time most convenient for its purpose. In the plan 
and personages of this, story I have followed somewhat 
the renowned German novelist Leopold Compert ; but 
I have changed entirel}^ the expression of sentiments 
and principles. 

The historical sketch of '' The Fall of Bethar and 
the Martyrs," I published in the Jewish Tmies two 
years ago ; but as I have been assured by my friends 
that it was then read with great interest, and that a 
few historical suggestions given deserved the notice of 
scholars, it is, with slight alterations and corrections, 
reprinted in this book. 



PREFACE. V 

The last story of this' volume, "The Converted 
Noblemen," is an elaborate description of an histori- 
cal incident of the middle of the eighteenth century. 
The Jemsh community of my native city, Wilna, 
commemorates every year the martyrdom of the 
Noble Convert Potozky on the second day of the Feast 
of Weeks, and has in its manuscript prayer-book an 
especial prayer for that purpose. The " Pear-tree " 
on the grave of that convert is pointed out to the 
Jewish youth even at the present day. The family of 
Potozky's friend Zriemby, has produced many learned 
Israelites since the conversion of their noble ancestor, 
and exists yet in Holland, where it is held in great 
respect. 

The reception that the public may accord me in the 
present instance will, if sufficiently encouraging, 
prompt me to proceed with the preparation of a work 
of more importance and greater interest. 

The Authok. 
New York, March 25th, 1873. . 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



OHAEAOTEEISTIC SKETCHES : 

PAGE. 

THE SINGERS REVENGE 9 

APPENDIX— MXilJJKL DEATH INSURANCE CO. . 45 

METAMORPHOSE OF A LITHUANIAN BOY : 

PART FIRST, AS told by himself 51 

PART SECOND, as gatheked from keliable soueoes. 85 

RABBI ELCHANAN, a legend of mayenge. . . 121 

HISTOEICAL SKETCHES : 
THE FALL OF BETHAR AND THE MARTYRS . 173 

THE CONVERTED NOBLEMEN .... 187 



HE SINGER'S REVENGE. 




thp: misek and his surname. 

LIAKOM, surnamecl '• llie Fly^^ was a well- 
known citizen of Oshiniana in Lithuania. He 
was known to be a rich man, and had acquired 
the unenviable reputation of being the gi'eatest 
miser in the comnumity. He not only invariably refused 
to help an unfortunate brother ; but even lavished abuses 
on such as dared to apply to liim for assistance. 

A renowned preacher once came to the city of Oshmiana 
and delivered a most edifying and instructive lecture in the 
synagogue. The following day he called on the richest 
members of the community requesting some reward for 
his trouble. They received him with great respect and 
opened their purses liberally. He called also on Eliakom, 
but the miser slammed the door in his face as soon as he 
heard the object of his visit. This was more than the 
learned man could well endure, and the consequence was 
an announcement that " the renowned preacher of Kelm 
has consented to stay another week in Oshmiana, and he is 
going to deliver a second lecture next Sabbath afternoon." 



10 aEKSO.N'l's SKETCHES. 

The community was delighted with the intelligence and at 
the apjjointed time, the synagogue was crowded. 

Nor were the good people disappointed in their expecta 
tion ; the lecturer excelled himself on that occasion. His 
text was Is, vii. 1 8, in which verse Egypt is likened unto 
a fly and Assyria unto a bee. He preached on* the sins 
which caused the destruction of the Temple at Jerusalem, 
and metaphorically compared the two valiant nations witli 
two different courses of action. Assyria, which is likened 
unto a bee, illustrates the actions of those who, if they some- 
times do any good, do not perform the action with proper 
<liscretion, or balance it by accompanying evil. Like the 
bee which prepares honey and wax for the benefit of hu- 
man-kind, but pursues its Avork with unbecoming noise and 
sometimes even stings the man before lie is permitted to 
enjoy what was prepared for him. Mizraim, which is com- 
pared to a fly, illustrates the actions of such men as extract 
fi'om the community whatever benefit they can, but render 
it no service in return. Like the fly which bites man and 
drinks his blood ; but is of no service to the world. The 
behavior of the bee is frequently veiy reprehensible. Man 
often says to it : "I want neither thy honey nor thy sting." 
But the fly is beyond a doubt the more obnoxious of the 
two. Such are the two great enemies of Israel. Assyiia, 
the bee ; that is good actions accompanied by some evil, 
and Egypt, the fly, that is evil without any accompanying 
good at all. Beware of the last, of Mizraim the fly ! 

To this effect the man of lore continued illustrating his 
ideas Avith imnmierable passages from the Talmud. The 
audience were delighted with both preacher and sermon, 



THE singer's revenge. 11 

and Kliakom, the miser, was thenceforth surnamed The Fly 
In this noble mannei* was the learned man revenged on 
him, but it did not produce the desked effect ; for Eliakoni 
was not the man who cared for mere words. Another and 
more effectual lesson was he to learn from a person who 
was far inferior to the erudite preacher of Kelm. 



II. 

KLFAKOMS SON AND OOAT. 

EliaivOm had a son who was eighteen years of age. He 
also had a coat of about the same age as his son. His son 
had to perform the functions of a business-clerk, an errand- 
boy, a house servant ; in short, he was Jack-of-all-trades. 
For Eliakom was a practical man and argued thus : " Why 
.should 1 spend my money on servants, knowing that Solo- 
mon, my son, is going to take all I have when I die ? Let 
liim work for it while I live." So also had his coat to per- 
form the offices of a garment by day and a coverlet by 
night, of a house coat at home, of a dress coat in the syna- 
gogue, and at last it was used also for a rag to take a pan ^ 
from the stove or to wipe a plate ; for the coat had long 
tails and its owner was not the man to neglect such an ad- 
vantage. 

When Solomon reached his eighteenth year, his father 
'thought it would be a good thing if he could get rid of him 
on some cheap terms ; for the ungrateful child was not sat- 
isfied with the three meals a day which he cost his father ; 



12 aERSONl's SKETCHES. 

he wanted good clothing and even some pocket-money (the 
boy was spoiled by extravagant companions). There was 
no danger of his getting the money he desired, for he never 
knew where his father kept the key of the money-box. 
Not so was it about dress. The poor old man could not 
carry with him all the goods he had in his store, and the 
spoiled boy actually had the audacity to take advantage of 
this circumstance. lie one day took a quantity of alpaca 
from the store when his father was absent, and gave it to 
the tailor who fashioned it into a coat for him and charged 
his father for sewing it. It was very severe on the poor 
old man, such an offense as this, and he resolved to rid 
himself of the culprit— to many him off. 

Now if Eliakom had lived in a more civilized land, where 
there are always many marriageable widows and spinsters, 
it would have been very easy to procure a wife for his son. 
For, strange to say, Solomon was in every respect the veiy 
reverse of his father. He was a manly and intellectual 
youth, sociable and good-natured, with" a figure and counte- 
nance that were eloquent in his favor ; and his attractions 
were not lessened by his being an heir. But the poor old 
man lived in Luthuania and there it was somewhat difficult 
to procure a wife for Solomon. However " there is in na- 
* ture no evil without a remedy," as the old adage says, and 
Lithuania having an insufficient supply of wives, is abound- 
ing with marriage-brokers, called Shadchanim. The prac- 
tice of these men there, is almost reduced to a science ; 
there is nothing impossible for a Luthuanian maniage- 
broker in the way of his vocation. To such a practitioner 
did Eliakom take recourse in his dilemma, and he was not 



THE singer's revenge. 13 

disappointed. The Shadchen speedily succeeded in finding 
in a neighboring village a homely girl, whose father was 
willing to pay any price for a son-in-law. The bargain 
was closed to the satisfaction of both parties, (I mean the 
fathers, for the children have no voice in such matters) and 
on the appointed day Eliakom hired a horse and wagon to 
convey himself, son and coat to the place where the happy 
bride resided. By doing this he saved the dues that must 
be paid to certain officials who perform the wedding cere- 
mony in the city of Oshmiana. 



III. 



THE SINGER AND HIS THREAT. 



While the wagon was being prepared for the journey 
by Solomon, and Eliakom was aiTanging some little busi- 
ness-matters in his store preparatory to leaving the city, a 
\-oung man of noticeable decency in dress and of genteel 
deportment introduced himself to the old man, as the tenor- 
singer of the synagogue choii*. 

" I came to request you," the young man said, •' to take 
me along with you to the wedding of your son. I will 
perhaps have the chance to earn some money among the 
guests, for I can entertain them with fine songs and with 
most interesting sleiglit-of-hand performances. Thus you 
would confer a favor upon me without any loss to yourself. 



14 GERSDNl's SKETCHES. 

I feel certain that the guests will be pleased with me, and 
will thank you for bringing me with you." 

Eliakom became angry at the singer. He had to make a 
two-days' journey, and how could he take anybody along 
without the risk of spending something on him. 

" There are fools enough eveiywhere," he replied, " I 
do not see the necessity of encumbering myself with one 
on a journey which has already cost me more than I can 
well afiord." 

The synagogue singers in Lithuania receive no salary. 
The congregation provides only for their board ; but for 
the rest they must look out for themselves. For the pur- 
pose of gaining the other necessaries of life they often 
entertain social and Avedding parties with songs, legerdemain 
and mimicry. Samuel, the tenor was known as the best 
singer and juggler in the community. He was welcomed 
at every social paity, not only by the Jewish population, 
but also by the non-Jewish inhabitants, and even by the 
official authorities of that place. He spoke the Russian, 
Polish, and even the obsolete Lithuanian languages with the 
purest accent, and could mimic evei*ybody with i-emarkable 
skill, from a drunken peasant up to a commanding officer 
of the army. He knew the best songs that are contained 
in those languages, and sang with a sonorous voice and 
good effect. All his various accomplishments and talents 
were rendered so much the more acceptable by the strict 
morality of his utterances. However well received he might 
be in any quarter, he never took advantage of the welcome 
that was extended to him. He often threw his audience 
into roars of laughter ; but it was never at anybody's expense. 



15 



In short, though Samuel was the pet of society, he never 
became its tyraTnt, and that is about the best that can be said 
of any populai* character. 

The miser's rude refusal to take him alono- was very 
deeply felt by the poor artist. His eyes sparkled with 
indignation and his face flushed to the roots of his hair. 
He hesitated a moment, and then raising his hand he said 
sternly and with emphasis : 

'' Mark my words. Eliakom, I am going to teach you a 
lesson which will make you either wiser than you ever were 
or cause you to die more miserably than you ever lived,' 
And he left the house. 

About half an hour afterward, as the wedding party 
was on the point of starting, and Eliakom in his coat with 
Solomon at his side was seated in the wagon ready to take 
the reins, a young man approached him and asked whether 
his uncle from the countiy was there, as he had been intend- 
ing to make some purchases of Eliakom, 

" About what time was your uncle to call on me?" asked 
Eliakom, , 

" Let me see. He wanted to go to P. at one o'clock. 
He would be detained there for about an hour or so, and 
then he intended to go to you. Well. I should say about 
half-past two would he the time at which he was to be at 
your store," 

'• Why, child, it is not two o'clock yet I" exclaimed the 
miser joyfully. Your uncle will find me at his service." 

" How glad he \vill be," rejoined the young man, and 
went away, Eliakom returned to open his store for the 
expected customer. He waitedtill four o'clock, at which- 



16 



time the young man came again, and infonned him that 
his micle had been unexpectedly called away from the 
city ; but he had said he would be back in ten days, and 
would then buy what he wanted. Eliakom closed the store 
and started on his journey without further delay. 



IV. ' 

THE INCIDENTS OF THE JOUKNEY. 

Three hours' ride from Oshmiana there is a white inn 
with green shutters, known by the name of Green Castle, 
where Eliakom purposed to stay for the night. Arriving 
there he found all the gates closed and no human being in 
sight except a solitary peasant who was sitting on a hedge 
near by smoking his pipe and looking vacantly ahead. 
Eliakom called to him, asking him to open the gates of the 
inn ; (for Solomon had never been out of tgwn and did not 
know how to do it,) but the peasant took no notice of 
him. Eliakom imagined that he wanted something for 
his troubles, he repeated his request and threw him a slice 
of " city baked bread," which is generally considered a 
great treat for a peasant. The son of Cham (such is the 
appellation of the serfs common among the Lithuanian 
Israelites) took the bread, put it into his bosom and calmly 
resumed liis fonner position. Eliakom thought he was 
deaf, and showed him by gesticulation what he wanted of 
him, at tlie same time throA^ing him another piece of bread ; 



THE 8INGP:r's REVENUE. 17 

but the peasant took the other piece of bread and replying 
something to the effect that he was not going to be the obedi- 
ent servant of every d d Jew, again sat down smoking 

his pipe and looking in an opposite direction. 

This was more than the miser could bear. He sprang 
from his wagon, and struck the peasant three violent blows 
in the face and breast. But oh, horror ! the serf stood up 
and extended his hands convulsively, blood streamed forth 
from his nose and mouth : he staggered a few steps back 
ward and fell dead! For a few minutes Eliakom stood petri- 
fied with fright at this terrible catastrophe, and, as soon as 
he was able to collect his thoughts, made up his mind that 
there was no remedy for him but tiight. He jumped in 
his wagon and drove off with the greatest speed, whipping 
his horse without mercy. As for Solomon, lie sat in his 
corner bewildered, unable to utter a word. 

Eliakom might have proceeded for about an hour, and 
was congratulating himself that night was fast approaching, 
when he heard the tramp of a horse belnnd him. A few 
minutes more and he could clearly distinguish the words : 
" Stop, in the name of the Czar and the Law !" 

" There is no doubt," Eliakom thought, '• that the dead 
peasant has been found, and a gendarme is coming to arrest 
us." A cold perspiration burst from him, and he could 
hardly bring the horse to a stop, so unnerved was he. A 
gendarme it actually was. He approached the wagon, 
made a few remarks about the foaming horse that had been 
so mercilessly treated, and asked for the passports of the 
passengers. Eliakom felt easier, for if the soldier had come 
to arrest him for nmrder he would treat him in a different 



18 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

manner, and he handed him the documents. The gen- 
daiTQe did not open the papers, he stuck them into his sleeve 
and ordered the passengers to turn back and follow him. 
Eliakom remonstrated, saying that he had business before 
him which suffered no delay ; but finding that it was of no 
use, he asked how far he was to return, and where was he 
to be conducted. 

•'Within half a vierst of the • Green Castle' lives the judge 
of the district," replied the soldier. "' I am to take you to 
him. He will examine yom- papers, and if they are all 
coiTect, you will not be detained." 

" But could not you glance over the papers yourself?" 
said Eliakom imploringly. " Business is so pressing that I 
can lose no time." 

" Cannot help it. Law is law," was the laconic answer. 

But it was impossible to return within such a short dis- 
tance of the '' Castle " without running the risk of being- 
arrested for murder. Every effort must be made to avoid 
it if possible. 

" I will give you a ruble," said Eliakom with a trembling 
voice, " if you will take the trouble to examine our pass- 
j)orts yourself and let us go." 

" I have strict orders to bring every passenger to the 
Judge himself. Would not do a thing against my orders 
for even twenty-five rubles." 

Such an answer from a Russian ofiicial is as good as fix- 
ing the price of the favor he is requested to do. Eliakom 
tried to beat the gendanne down, but he was immovable. 
" Cannot do it," was his only reply. The miser had to take 
out the immense sum of ttoenty-five rubles and give it to 



THE singer's revenge. 19"' 

tlie arm of the law ! What he felt at that tune cannot well 
be described. The soldier took the money and allowed 
them to proceed. One hour more and they arrived at an 
inn where they were peacefully installed for the night. 
Eliakom had to wash the blood stains from his coat. Here 
he had an opportunity to reflect upon the adventm-es of his 
journey. He had become a murderer in his old age, and 
had to spend a large amount of money to escape the con- 
sequences of the crime. Who knows whether he is secure 
even now ? How easily all these misfoitunes could have 
been avoided ! 



TI1I<: GUEST AT THE AVEUDING. 

Eliakom and his son proceeded on their journey without 
fuither trouble, and the third day they arrived at the place 
where the bride and her family were awaiting them. Un- 
pleasant remarks were made, and irksome questions were 
asked about the paleness and weary appearance of the 
guests ; but Eliakom stammered a reply to the effect that 
'' the uncomfoitable lodgings and bad meals at the inns 
would affect the health even of a giant like Og, the King of 
Bashan,'' and all further inquii'ies were happily averted. 
Eliakom was sick, and very meditative for the next two 
days, but he urged the wedding to be performed without 
delay. Strange to say, and to the astonishment of the 
bridegi-oom and two or three guests who knew him before, 



^0 



Eliakom began to display some marks of libei*ality. He 
made presents to the bride, the musicians, and the poor of 
the village, and was generally much more agi'eable than 
he had ever been in his brightest days. Solomon looked 
at his father with emotion. 

" The fearful incidents of oui' journey," he thought, 
" have been the cause of resuscitating the Jewish heart 
that has been lying donnant in my father's breast, and the 
image of God now reasserts . its position in his coun- 
tenance." * 

On the evening of the wedding, while the guests were 
sitting around the well-spread tables, (for the bride's family 
were hospitable people, and on that occasion they had more 
reason than ever to be so) a man di*essed in Oriental attire 
entered the room, and introduced himself as a native of 
Jerusalem, coming from the Holy Land to collect money 
for charitable institutions that were located there. Of 
course he ^vas welcomed as a Habbi and a brother. A 
plate was immediately passed around the table to receive 
donations in furtherance of his mission, and after that the 
whole party joined in requesting him to tell them about 
the wonderful things that were to be seen and learned in 
the Holy Land. Their curiosity was more than satisfied. 
The stranger told them so many stories about the " West- 



* According to the Eabbinical teaching, every man, being created 
in the image of God, has a natural disposition to be good. This is 
what makes man look so noble when he is performing some good 
action. If man follows his evil passions, Satan causes his soul to 
fall asleep, and the image of God departs from him. Hence the 
repulsive expression in the face of a sinner. 



• THE SINGER'S REVENGE. 21 

ern Wall," the cave of Machpelah, Rachel's grave, and sim 
ilar objects of interest, that they forgot all about the 
well flavored dishes and wines that were being served. 
The only thing to be regTetted was that he could not speak 
their dialect. He spoke no language but Hebrew, and 
that with the Oriental accent, generally known as the 
"Sephai-daic pronounciation." The women, and some of the 
men even, could not understand him ; but they thronged 
ai'ound him nevertheless, and made the others act as inter- 
preters. When their cmiosity was satisfied, all retm-ned 
to their seats and the Eastern brother and Rabbi was in- 
vited to partake of the supper. But he refused to sit at the 
table ; he could not eat in the manner Europeans eat, nor 
did he like to be stared at while eating after his own 
fashion. This objection presented no difficulty. A table- 
cloth was spread on the floor of an adjoining room, and 
everything was an'anged thereon to the satisfaction of the 
" pious " man. Some of the guests even had the pleasm-e 
of seeing him seated on the floor with his legs crossed 
under him, eating without either spoon or fork. After a 
while the door was closed, in order to let him enjoy the 
meal as he liked best. 

After the lapse of an hour or so the host began to think 
that the stranger had had ample time to satisfy his appetite, 
and he sent a servant to invite him to return to the rest of 
the party. The messenger came back with the report that 
the door was locked from within and that he received no 
answer on knocking at it. The host surmised that the 
"pious" man was performing his devotion, saying grace after 
his meal, and he left him undistm'bed for another hour. But 



22 



-when the messenger was sent a second time and retm-ne<i 
with the same answer as before, adding that he had looked 
through the key-hole and had seen no light in the room, all 
present rushed to the door, and after repeated rapping 
forced it open. To their dismay they found the room de- 
serted ; the Oriental brother and Rabbi had vanished, with 
all the silver plate on which he was served, not forgetting 
even the candlestick of the same metal. Messengers were 
sent out in all directions to detect the scoundrel, inquiries 
were made at every house in the village, but in vain. 
Nobody knew a traveler from Jerusalem, no one had seen 
that night a man whose appearance and attire would 
answer to the description of the messengers.* 



VI. 

THE BAAT.-SHEM. 

There was much disturbance in the house on the 
following day about this loss of silver plate, and even in 
the whole village there was nobody but talked of tlie 
Oriental swindler. They were certain that he was from 
Jerusalem, because of his speaking no language but He- 
brew. Everybody wondered how a man from that holy 
place could be such a scoundrel, unless he was possessed 
by the Evil-one himself Some of the women who had 
seen him at the party, even asserted that they had noticed 
from the strange lustre of his eyes that there was some- 



* See Appendix — " The Mutual Death Insurance Cc 



THE singer's kevenoe. 23 

thing wrong about him ; but they had been afraid to utter 
their suspicions lest he should do them some harm with 
his evil influence. Even the more praptical-minded men, 
who were ready to admit that there are scoundrels among 
every class of people, could not account for this man's sud- 
den appearance and disappearance since nobody, except 
the persons that were present at the wedding, had seen 
him either e^^tering or leading the village. While this 
commotion w^as at its height, one of those holy men who 
can perform great wonders by the mention of the Holy 
Name (called Baal-Sliem), anived in the village accom- 
panied, of course, by his famulus. He performed three 
mii'acles in the act of alighting from his wagon. Two beg- 
gars, the one lame and the other blind, approached his 
wagon asking alms, evidently taking him for a common 
passenger. He answered them : 

" A man like myself has no money to spare, but I shall 
give you something which is worth more than all the 
money in the world. Stand here and let me lean on your 
shoulders while I alight." 

They wondered at the meaning of his words and obeyed 
his orders. He pronounced some mystic words, leaned on 
theu" shoulders Avdth both hands and jumped from his 
wagon with the agility of a young man, though he was a very 
old and feeble-looking person. They experienced a severe 
shock through their frames as his hands touched them, and 
instantly the lame man became straight, and the blind man 
received his sight. They ran through the streets nearly 
mad with joy, relating the miracles to every one and calling 
aloud : 



24 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

" Blessed be the Lord, that there are such men in Israel !"' 
The excitement about the theft was forgotten over these 
new wonders, for everyone m the village knew the two 
men on whom the miracles had been perfonned. They had 
been walking around the streets for two days previous, 
asking alms i?i the most miserable condition of bodily in- 
firmity, and now they were seen running as hale and hearty 
as could be. The inn where the holy man stppped became 
beleagured with the sick and infirm that came to solicit his 
help, and with others who came only for curiosity, to look 
at him. But he would not show himself to any one before 
he performed his afternoon devotion. His famulus would 
not give any information about his master to the numerous 
inquii'ies. He said he was not peimitted to say more than : 
,, Believe in what you see and are convinced of, and nevei- 
try to penetrate the mysteries of the Loj'd.'" 

The chronicler of this stoiy kno^^s nothing of tlie 
wonders of spiritualism, except Avhat he reads of them in 
the newspapers every now and then ; but he firmly believes 
in the principle just quoted, and having seen such wonders 
performed by men who have no idea of subjecting spirits 
in the ordinary spii'itualistic manner, he is not afraid to 
affinn that there are and will be wonders beyond the com- 
prehension of man as long — as long — w^ell, as long as there 
are such men as the Baal-Shem existing in the world, no 
matter m what clime or under what banner they are sail- 
ing. 



THE slnger's revengp.. 25 

VII. 

THE bride's father AND THE BAAL-SHEM. 

Amo3ig those who waited for the advice of the holy man 
was Nahum, the man who liad gained Solomon, the son of 
Eliakom, for a son-in-law, and had lost the silver plate in 
which he had so hospitably served the stranger from Jeru- 
salem. A holy man must know everything, and Nahum 
came to ask him how he could recover the stolen silver. 
When his name was announced to the Baal-Shem, the latter 
sprang to his feet as if he had received an electric shock 
and exclaimed : 

" Heaven be merciful unto thy children ! There are the 
crimes of soul-trading and bloodshed in the trails of their 
gannents, and they are ignorant of then- guilt. Thus, alas! 
it comes to pass that they value a piece of metal more than 
their conscience, an earthen vessel more than honesty and 
truth !" 

Kahum heard the exclamation while he was standing at 
the door, and treitibled in every limb. It was evident that 
the holy man knew what he had come for ; but what meant 
the frightful allusions to soul-trading and bloodshed ? He 
was undecided whether to approach the Baal-Shem or not ; 
but while he was hesitating the latter continued : 

" Nahum-bar- Jonah, step nearer to me. Or art thou 

ashamed of thy crimes ? Truly, I tell thee that the ciime 

of the Ishmaelites who bought Joseph fi'om the hands of 

his brothers, was no less than that of the men who sold their 

2 



26 OERSONl's SKETCHES. 

brother !" Nahum was paralyzed with terror ; but the holy 
man continued : 

" Nahum-bai- Jonah, thou hast come hither to consult 
how to recover certain silver plate which has been stolen 
from thee ; but whither wilt thou go to recover thy soul 
which thou hast lost by thy own evil deeds ? Thou must 
regain it if thou believest in the One who gave thee a soul 
as ])ure and holy as such a giver can. Thou must recover 
thy soul if thou hast any desire of returning it unto Him 
that gave it ! Or wilt thou perish forever in the hand of 
the Evil-one ? Behold, the spirits of thy forefathers (here 
he recited Nahum's genealogy up to the tenth generation) 
hovering in the aii* around thee, waiting for thy decision, 
anxious to know whether they are to recognize their off- 
spring in eternity, or must disown him forever !" 

Only a single tallow candle was burning in the spacious 
room, and its dim light added to the solemnity of the scene. 
The impressive words of the old man and his terrible mo- 
nitions took such hold of Nahum's imagination that he 
actually believed he saw the spirits to which the seer had 
called his attention. Hell seemed to be gaping at his feet 
and evil spuits stretching their hands to take hold of him 
and drag him into the abyss. Utterly overcome he fell at 
the feet of the Baal-Shem crying : "Save me father! Save 
my soul !" The old man raised him from the floor and 
said: 

" A crushed spirit is a sacrifice agreeable to the Lord. 
Repentance, prayer and righteous deeds can avert the doom 
of a sinner." 

" But tell me. Rabbi," cried Nahum, " what is the fear_ 



THE SINGER S REVENGE. 



27 



ful crime which I have committed, aud how am I to atone 
for it r 

" Thou hast committed a terrible sin in buying the poor 
lad Solomon from the hands of his avaricious father. Sol- 
omon is to sacrifice all his days for thy daughter ; thou 
hast made him swear to do so in the sight of God and men 
without asking him whether he is able or willing to act in 
accordance with his solemn promise. Such a thing is no 
less a crime than soul-barter, and if Solomon is not con- 
tented with the wife that has been forced upon him, and 
violates the oath he has taken, his sin falls upon the heads 
of those who forced him to perjure himself" 

"Oh, I understand it now," exclaimed Nahum ; "but 
you know well, Rabbi, that such is the custom among our 
people, and my sin is only the consequence of evil exam- 
ple. And yet I would oifer my life to redeem the error, 
did I only know of some way in which to do it." 

" What is united in the name of God cannot be severed," 
rejoined the Baal-Shem, " but there is another way to re- 
pair the wrong. For the artifices thou hast employed to 
secure Solomon's Jiaud for thy daughter, thou must recom- 
pense him with kindness and generosity. Five months' 
time hast thou devoted to working out this marriage 
scheme, thou must therefore keep Solomon and his wife 
five years in thy house, treat him like a son, and train him 
in business at thy own expense. By that time he will be- 
come contented with his homel^^ wife, and she will learn 
to love and respect him under the influence ol the example 
thou wilt set for her. This is the only advice I can give 
thee in the matter. I am certain that good treatment will 



28 gp:r8oni's sketches. 

have the desired effect upon Solomon, for he has a good 
heart and many excellent qualities. If thou wilt do this, 
thy sin will be forgiven, the happiness of thy children will 
be secured, and God will give thee His blessings as He 
does to all who honor His name." 

Giving this wholesome advice was not enougii for the 
holy man ; he also made Nahum swear upon a scroll of the 
Law that he would follow it. He then accepted the gift 
which Nahum offered him, and promised to help him in 
recovering the stolen silver. Accompanying Nahum to 
the door with a blessing, he dismissed him with the follow- 
words : 

" Tell Eliakom-bar-Daniel, the father of thy son-in-law, 
that Satan is hard at work painting a room for him in hell 
with the blood of a peasant." 



vni. 



ELIAKOM AND BAAL-SHEM. 

Nahum reached home in the greatest agitation. He 
spoke about the holy man and the wonders he had per- 
formed in the most glowing terms, pronounced him a ben- 
efactor of mankind (just the title which the Chinese physi- 
cians like to assume) and addressing Eliakom he said with 
a mysterious expression : ' 

" Hasten to him, Eliakom, he will save you, body and 
soul. He knows the most secret thoughts of a man's heart. 
He told me that there are in heaven some feaiful accusa- 



THE SINGER'S REVENGE, 29 

tions against you ; and showed me a room in hell with 
Satan hard at work painting it with the blood of an uncir- 
cumcised one.* That room, he said, was destined for you. 
Go to him immediately, lest the Evil-one should accomplish 
his work and you be lost forever." 

Eliakom nearly fainted at these words ; he hastily left 
the house and ran half bewildered to the man who was to 
save him. Arriving there he was told by the Baal-Shem's 
famulus that he could not see the holy man. He (the 
famulus) had orders not to admit anybody into his pres- 
ence for he had important work on hand. Eliakom said 
he would wait until the holy man would be ready to re- 
ceive him. The famulus oifered him a seat in the ante- 
chamber and requested him to watch at the door that 
nobody might interrupt his master ; as for himself, he 
would have to leave his post for a few minutes. Xo sooner 
was the famulus out of sight than Eliakom looked through 
the key-hole into the room of the holy man ; and great was 
the sight which he saw ! ' 

The Baal-Shem stood in the middle of room dressed in 
a white robe, both hands raised up toward heaven and his 
face glowing with devotion. He remained in this attitude 
for several minutes, and then burst out in a most fervent 
prayer. Eliakom listened intently and discovered that the 
man was interceding in his behalf; he prayed that the 
great sin that stained Eliakom's soul might be washed off. 
He prayed that the wrong which Eliakom had done by 
selling the future of his son might be forgiven, and finally 



This expression conveys an idea of especial abhorrence. 



30 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

he prayed that Eliakom might be cleansed from the blood- 
stains with which he had defiled his soul, and that he, the 
Baal-Shem, might be enabled to annihilate the de\T.l which 
Eliakom had created by his atrocious crime. 

Eliakom could hear every word and he could see the 
earnest and devout expression on the old man's face. He 
was in anguish. Suddenly there was heard a low murmur 
through the room, the old man's eyes sparkled with unusual 
brilliancy, a dark figure, like that of a peasant, arose as if 
from the ground, and the Baal-Shem called out : '' Here 

thou art, son of Topheth ! I defy thee in the name of !" 

Grasping the figure with both hands, the holy man com- 
menced to struggle with it. Eliakom sank down in a 
swoon. 

When he reopened his eyes, he was in the Baal-Shem's 
room, and the old man and his famuhis were standing at 
his side. The first words he could utter were : '' Have 
you conquered him, Rabbi 1 Is my soul saved '?" 

"Fear not, my son," the old man replied, ''my task is 
not finished yet, but I hope I will be successful in the end. 
Thy presence behind the door gave the devil a chance to 
escape for the present. But how dost thou feel now f 

Much better. Rabbi," Eliakom answered. '' But tell me, 
for heaven's sake, how can I atone for my crime f 

The Baal-Shem told him that he must reform his life al- 
together. He must henceforth treat everybody with re- 
spect, especially those who wanted his assistance. He 
must gives tithes to the poor from all his earnings, and do 
his utmost for the benefit of the community. Eliakom 
promised to obey these injunctions in eveiy particular, and 



THE .singer's revenge. 31 

the Baal-Shem wrapped him in his own white garment and 
made him swear that he would never alter his resolution, 
no matter u^hat his future experience might he. The Baal- 
Shem and his famulus answered " amen " when the oath 
had been pronounced. A reddish light glistened through 
the room for a second. Eliakom was then encouraged by 
the holy man to be of good cheer, ordered to coijie to-mor- 
row again, and dismissed with a blessing. 

On the next day the Baal-Shem told Eliakom that he 
must leave the village for a few days. He therefore or- 
dered him to go home and be cheerful on the ensuing Sab- 
bath, for he, the holy man would not forget to do for him 
whatever he could even in his absence. 

He ordered Eliakom together with Nahum to sleep in 
the room where the stranger from Jerusalem had taken his 
lonely supper, on the ensueing Saturday night.* Xobody 
in the house should know why they were doing so. They 
should not be. afraid of what they might see ; but neither 
of them should stir from his place nor utter a loud word 
until daybreak. They might have a candle burning in 
the room if they wished it. On the following Monday the 
Baal-Shem would return, and Eliakom should come to see 
him. 

*The punishment of the wicked is, according to the Cabalists, 
suspended for the Sabbath day. When the day is over and the peo- 
ple of God have pronounced the blessing of ' ' discrimination " be- 
tween hallowed and unhallowed time, the angel of punishment calls 
out, " Let the wicked return to /S/^^o^." This summons is immedi- 
ately obeyed by the poor condemned souls, who leave their Sabbath 
enjoyments to return to their respective places of suffering. But 



IX. 



THE VISIONS OF THE NIGHT. 



Eliakom informed Nalium secretly about the orders of 
the Baal-Shem, aiid they waited impatiently and with fear 
for the things that were going to occm\ They tried to be 
as cheerful as they could ; but their minds could not well 
shake off the anticipation of what might await them next 
Saturday night. At last the appointed night amved and 
Nahum informed his family that he was going to spend it 
with Eliakom' in privacy, for they had particular business 
to transact. All the inmates of the house went to bed, and 
Nahum with Eliakom repaired to their own designated 
aj^artment. A burning candle was placed upon the table, 
and the two ha\dng said theu' night prayers went to bed 
with palpitating hearts. 

When the horn* struck twelve a Avindow was raised by 



on their journey to Sheol they may become dangerous to every liv- 
ing being they meet. The Sabbath night is accordingly a very dan- 
gerous time, and for this reason the O-ith Psalm, M'hich is recited at 
funerals, has been incorporated in the prayers of that evening. The 
recitation of this Pslam has the power to keep off the influence of 
evil spirits. Among the hymns of that evening, there is one com- 
mencing with the words " Addir Ayom v'nora,'" which, tradition 
says, has been composed by a great man who had been on a journey 
on that fatal night, and had been clear-sighted enough to see the 
evil spirits on their flight to Hell. The fact might be believed 
but for the literary merit of that hymn, which is too great for the 
dreadful cii-ciimstances under which it is alledged to have been com- 
posed. 



THE SINGER'S BEYENGE. 33 

some mysterious power in tlie room where Nahum and 
Eliakom were lying. The two moved closer to one another. 
A figm*e ap2)eared in the opened window. It was that of 
the stranger from Jerusalem. It ^alighted upon the floor 
without the slightest sound and moved with a ghost-like 
motion toward the centre of the room. There it sat down 
upon the floor crossing its legs beneath and gesticulating in 
a manner as if it were endm-incr the neatest tortiu-es. It 
then began to strike its breast with its left hand while with 
its right it drew from its capacious pockets and bosom the 
silver vessels which had been lost, and deposited it on the 
floor in the order in which it had been served at the wed- 
ding. This done it arose from the floor and glided from 
the room as quietly as it had come. 

" Did you see, Nahum f whispered Eliakom. " Your 
silver is here." 

" Yes, I see," was the reply. *' For heaven's sake, do 
not speok !" 

A few minutes afterward a slight murmur was heard out- 
side. Another figm-e appeared in the window. It was that 
of the bleeding peasant. Eliakom shrank together in con- 
sternation. V 

" Put your hands around me," whispered Eliakom, " or 
I am lost !" Nahum silently complied mth the request. 
The bleeding ghost moved slowly toward the bed, grasping 
the air with its hands, as if desirous of catching something. 
It was already near the bed, and with its next movement 
would encounter Eliakom's head. But suddenly the Baal- 
Shem appeared in the A\dndow ; with one leap he was be- 
tween the ghost and the bed. Seizing the former Tvdth 



34 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

both hands he uttered in a very deep voice : " Here thou 
art in my power, son of Topheth ! Give up thy evidence, 
or I will condemn thee to eternal anguish !" The ghost 
struggled for a moment, and having been forced upon its 
knees by the Baal-Shem, it took out from its bosom a piece 
of bread soiled with blood which the holy man snatched 
from its hand and hid in his breast. He then pronounced 
some mystic words, and the ghost disappeared through the 
window. The holy man then contemplated the piece of 
bread with an air of misgiving, placed it imder the pillow 
of the two bed companions, stretched his hands over their 
heads and pronounced solemnly and slowly the following 
blessing : 

" May the Merciful give you peace and rest, and may He 
enable you to live in such a manner that your old age shall 
be an atonement for all the sins you have hitherto com- 
mitted." And he vanished through the window, which 
closed of itself behind him. 

With the dawn of morning the two bed companions 
arose to narrate the wonders they had seen. There were 
no end of the marvels they could tell, and the blessings 
which they poured upon their benefactor. As nobody but 
Eliakom and his son knew the history of the peasant, the 
appearance of his ghost was explained in different ways. 
And no one could ever doubt the truth of their story after 
seeing the substantial evidence that was displayed in sup- 
port of it. 

On the following Monday the Baal-Shem returned to the 
village and found Nahum and Eliakom waiting for him at 
the inn. Nahum was admitted into his presence first, and 



THE singer's revenge. 35 

dismissed after a shoit interview, dimug which the holy 
man gave him his advice and blessings, and accepted the 
gifts which were offered him. Eliakom was then intro- 
duced. Having narrated all he had seen on the preceding 
Satm-day night, he showed the old man the piece of bread 
which was smTendered by the ghost. The Baal-Shem took 
it in his hand and examining it said that it was not quite 
so large as it had been originally. He regretted to see that 
with all the trouble he had taken to rescue the evidences 
against Eliakom which were m Satan's possession, he had 
still not wholly succeeded. A portion of the evidence had 
been retained by the Evil-one. Eliakom must have com- 
mitted some sin of which the holy man was not aware when 
he interceded in his behalf. Eliakom had better make a 
full confession if he wished to be entirely saved. 

Eliakom had a great many things to confess ; among 
others he related how badly he treated the tenor of the syn- 
agogue choir. The old man listened patiently to all that 
Eliakom had to say, and when the other finished he said : 

" Yes, there are sins, which are morally as bad as, or 
even worse than murder, though people think the least of 
them. If one kills a man, he sins against the community, 
depriving it of a member that was created by God to con- 
tribute to the wellfjire of all ; he sins against the laws of 
nature, destroying a being of body and soul like himself ^ 
and he betrays a disposition most dangerous to mankind, 
being void of all sympathy with the sufferings — aye, even 
with dying agonies — of a fellow creature ! ' Whoso shed- 
deth the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed.' 
But he who discourages another one in his legitimate efforts 



36 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

to make a living, and thereby causes the heart's blood af a 
fellow man to boil with wi'ath and shame and dispak, he 
commits as much of a sin as though he were to kill him, 
for the moral agonies of disappointment and sham^ are 
ftilly equal to, if not worse than, the agonies of death. And 
society suffers perhaps more by such an uncharitable action ; 
for if the disappointed man is not of the highest moral culti- 
vation, he is apt to become desperate and dangerous to 
his neighbors, while the dead can do no harm whatever in 
the world." 

The holy man continued for some time in this solemn 
strain, and Eliakom, whose heart was sufficiently softened by 
his experiences of the -last few days, was well prepared 
to appreciate every word. He wept bitterly, and promised 
to repair, as much as was in his power, all the wrongs he 
had committed against his fellow-men. The Baal-Shem 
made him swear again never to alter his good resolution, 
and promised to work in his behalf that the last portion of 
the evidence of his guilt that was in the hands of Satan 
should be recovered — after which he might rest assiu-ed 
that God and man ^vere reconciled to him. 



X. 

THE METAMORPHOSIS. 

The community of Oshmiana was astonished at the 
intelligence that Eliakom, " the Fly," having returned from 
the vveddino- of his son, had ordered a new coat for him- 



REVENGE. 37 

self, and had declared the intention of giving a reception 
party as soon as Solomon and his newly-mamed wife 
should visit the city. Soon after, news of even a more 
stai-tling character was circulated ; Eliakom had donated a 
handsome sum of money to be distributed among the poor 
students of the Talmud that were quartered in Oshmiana, 
and he had subscribed as a regular contributor to all the 
charitable institutions of the place. Solomon and his wife 
anived after a time, and invitations to the anticipated 
reception party were sent to all the prominent folks in the 
community. 

The good people did not know what to make of all this. 
Some were of the opinion that " a Jew cannot help wishing 
to have his brethren participate in his mirth, w^hen he feels 
happy," and Eliakom, miser as he was, was an Israelite 
after all. Others said that as long as Solomon was not 
properly provided for, Eliakom was perfectly right in saving 
every kopeek for his only son ; but now, having well pro- 
vided for Solomon, the old man wished to enjoy life and to 
behave in such a manner as becomes every respectable 
Israelite. Thus public opinion, all at once turned in favor 
of Eliakom ; it even made an effort to justify his former 
conduct. 

Truly, "public opinion is a fickle goddess." It is an 
almost every-day occurence that a man who is one day the 
object of contempt and condemnation for his evil ways^ 
becomes the next day the favorite of the public, is lauded 
to the skies for some good act, the first, perhaps the only 
one, in his life. In Greece no one was to be declared a god 
while he lived ; but no sooner did one die while in the 



38 GERSOJ^rS 8KETCHEt>. 

enjoyment of public favor, than he was elevated to divinity, 
and a thousand stories were invented to confirm his posi- 
tion. Most biographies and stories of saints, heroes or 
other " great men " were written after they had departed 
from this life in some unusually interesting manner. Few 
of them would be known to us were it not for their last, 
perhaps their only worthy deed. " Public opinion is a fickle 
goddess ;" she acts upon impulse. Happy the man whose 
last act in life arouses admiration : such a man is immortal. 
Eliakom was declared a good man at the bottom : his sur- 
name, " The Fly,*' was heard no more. 

Among the guests invited to the reception party was 
Samuel, the tenor singer. He refused at first to accept the 
invitation, but when Eliakom himself came to him begging 
his pardon for the insult he had oflTered him, and tendering 
him the sum of thirty rubles, the largest amount he could 
have earned at Solomon's wedding, Samuel yielded, saying 
that " he could not deny his Jewish nature." He took the 
money, pardoned the off'ense, and came to the party. The 
guests were highly pleased with the arrangements, and were 
delighted with Samuel, the tenor, who sang the finest songs 
and displayed his choicest slight-of-hand tricks to entertain 
them. Solomon's bride showed herself a good housewdfe 
and very amiable. The young couple were congratulated 
on all hands and received many marks of respect, the enter- 
tainment passed off most satisfactorily. When the guests 
were ready to take leave of the host, he addressed them in 
the following terms : 

" I was very much gratified to see you under my roof ; 
I thank you for your kind ^dsit and earnestly beg of you to 



f THE singer's revenge. 39 

pardon that former course of life for which I had become 
so notorious among you. I do not intend to keep myself 
withdrawn from the community in the future, as I have 
done hitherto, and I hope that none of you will hereafter 
forget me whene^r there is need of a true friend. My son 
is going to stay with his father-in-law for five years, and 
then, if I live so long, I purpose to give up my business into 
his hands and to retke into private life. If God pleases to 
keep me alive and send me the help I am most in need of, 
1 w^ill then endeavor to make my house even more agreeable 
to you all than I can possibly at present." 

" Except to myself," interrupted the artist, "for I hope 
by that time to be settled as minister with some respectable 
congi'egation far from Oshmiana." 

" Never mind that," rejoined Eliakom with a smile ; "if 
such be the case, I will then bring you here at my own 
expense." 



XI. 



TRANSFIGURATION. 



Five years expired after the occurrences naiTated above, 
and during that time Eliakom did not swerve from the reso- 
lution he had taken on his return from the wedding of his 
son. The appellation " Fly " was accordingly substituted 
by the more respectable surname " The Nadib," or generous 
one. Eliakom's life and deportment were so entu-ely reformed 
that it was impossible to recognize the former " Fly " in 



40 



the present " Nadib." The astonishment which was caused 
by Eliakom's first generous act, gave place to a feeling of 
respect for him, and finally he came to be considered the 
worthiest man in the community. People spoke of him 
with a feeling of sincere esteem, and th^ deepest sympathy 
was engendered in his behalf when an expression of sorrow 
and anxiety was noticed in his face. The cause of his un- 
happiness was the morsel of blood-soaiked bread which the 
Baal-Shem had failed to wrest from Satan. The holy man 
had given the assurance that it would be returned unto him 
if his works "were acceptable before the Lord." It had 
not yet been returned — hence his anxiety. 

Solomon returned to Oshmiana with his wife ' and two 
children. He had become a good business man, thanks to 
the training received from his father-in-law, and had suc- 
ceeded in accumulating a small capital of his own, which 
he now intended to invest in his father's business. Arrange- 
ments were made for a party to be given in celebration of his 
succession to his father's business. Invitations were sent to 
all friends and a letter was dispatched to Samuel the tenor, 
who for three years had been the minister of a respectable 
congregation in Kovno. 

On the appointed evening all the guests were in attendance, 
ail except Samuel, who in reply to Eliakom's kind invitation 
had Aviitten that " he was not certain whether his ofliicial 
duties w^onld allow him to absent himself from Kovno for a 
whole week (it was about two days' journey from Oshmiana.) 
He would tiy to obtain leave from his congregation, but 
in case he did not succeed, he begged Eliakom not to be 
disappointed. He sends his best wishes, etc." 



THE singer's revenge. 41 

When the whole party were sitting around the well- 
spread table, Eliakom and Nahnm presiding, the door 
opened and a feeble old man entered the room saluting the 
guests most courteously. Eliakom and Nahum imme- 
diately recognized in him their benefactor, tlie Baal-Shem, 
and welcomed him with the greatest respect. The old man 
took the seat that was offered him. gravely blest all present, 
di-ank a glass of wine, and finally asked the host whether he 
could spare a few minutes for a private interview. Of course, 
he could. He offered to take the holy man into another 
room. The Baal-Shem asked whether there was no room 
in the house the windows of which opened toward " the East, 
as such a place would be the best suited for his purpose. 
There was such a room, and Eliakom took his benefactor 
into it with a palpitating heart. The holy man looked 
around him witli an air of satisfaction, and addressed Elia- 
kom : 

" I came here to accomplish the work which I com. 
menced for the benefit of thy soul five years ago. Now 
comes the question whether thou dost feel thyself able to 
continue in the way of righteousness ? Remember that 
thou hast sworn by the Holy Law to act in conformity 
with thy promise, no flatter what thy future ex2J€rie?ice 
may 6e." 

Eliakojn asserted that he would not give up his present 
ways for all the riches in the world, even if he had not 
taken the oath alluded to. That he would have been a 
happy man for the last five years, but for " the evidence 
which Satan still preserved " against him — that had been 
giving him great anxiety. The Baal-Shem was pleased 
3 



42 GERSONl's SKKTCHES. 

with the answer, and wished to be left alone for half an 
liour, after which Eliakora should return with Nahum and 
two of his guests. At the expiration of the half hour Elia- 
kom came into the room again with the other persons that 
had been named, and found the holy man standing at the 
window apparently in deep meditation. The Baal-Shem 
did not hear them entering, and remained in the same atti- 
tude for some time ; they observed him with silent reverence. 
Suddenly he turned to them saying : 

" The time is come. Eliakom-bar-Daniel, art thou here f 
Eliakom stepped nearer, and, at the old man's dictation, 
uttered a solemn promise to pursue the path of charity and 
righteousness which he had adopted and had been walking 
in for five years ; all present said " Amen." They were 
then all ordered into a remote corner of the room and urged 
not to be frightened at what they would see. The Baal- 
Shem pronounced some mystic words, and suddenly the 
peasant's ghost, now no longer soiled with blood, appeared 
in the window, and glided into the room. The holy man 
ordered it to give up its evidence, and it complied without 
resistance. It was then about to depart, but was directed 
to remain. The holy man handed the piece of bread to 
Eliakom, then went to the open window, and turning 
around in some peculiar manner he became transformed 
into another person. It was no more the feeble old man 
who had come here, it was now the dexterous stranger 
from Jerusalem who faced the astonished beholders. The 
metamorphosed guest di'ew a pocket-book from his bosom, 
and handing it to Nahum, said in Hebrew with the Sephar- 
daic accent : 



REVENGE. 43 

'' Here is the money which the Baal-Shem received from 
you for the restoration of the stolen silver. I did not intend 
to commit a theft ; I only wanted to teach you to be more 
careful in your dealings with ' pious men,' who too often 
take advantage of your credulity. Besides that, I had to 
do it to aid the Baal-Shem in his miracles and to bring you 
to him." Having said this he made a sign to the peasant, 
who instantly was transfigured into a gendarme, and said 
to Eliakom in the Russian language : 

" The twenty-five rubles which I received from you, I 
spent on the two cripples on whom the Baal-Shem had per- 
formed his first miracles in the village. I was so ordered 
by Samuel the tenor, by whose instruction I had acted as a 
peasant, and had received three blows fi-om you, the force 
of which I felt for a whole week afterward." 

" But where, in the name of heaven, is Samuel ?" ex- 
claimed Eliakom. " Oh, what a fool I was ! I understand 
it all now, and would like to see him." 

" He was afraid to come here," said the gentleman from 
Jerusalem, lest upon seeing him you should be provoked to 
break your oath." 

"What does he think of me!" cried Eliakom. "Am 
not I Israelite enough not to perjure myself in such a man- 
ner ? Far from being angry, I feel indebted to him for 
the good lesson he has taught me. Let him come and l)e 
welcome." 

"And I," said Nahum, "will never forget what I owe 
to the man who worked so ingeniously and with such suc- 
cess for the welfare of our children. Let him come and 
receive the thanks he deserves." 



44 



GERSONI S SKETCHES. 



" He is very glad to hear you speak like that," rejoined 
Samuel, who was none other than the man in oriental 
attire. 



THE END. 




APPENDIX. 



The illustration of the stranger from Jerusalem is not overdrawn. 
Villainies of this kind are of very frequent occurrence in Lithuania 
and other places where superstition is strong. Such practitioners 
as have either lived for some time in Jerusalem, or have come in 
contact with Oriental Israelites and learned their manners, very often 
assume the title of "Messengers from the Holy Land," and collect 
money under false pretenses, or simply help themselves in what- 
ever way they can ; their oriental manners being a sufficient warrant 
for high estimation among their credulous dupes. Some practition- 
ers of this kind have recently trie'd their skiU in this city; but 
they have been checked in their enterprise by some well-meaning 
persons. I can not refrain from giving the editor of the '■'Jewish 
Times" the credit for the interest he has taken in the matter, and 
for opening his columns to those who chose to unmask the hypo- 
crites before the public. Here is a correspondence which has been 
published in the ''■ Jeicish Times'' of Nov. 10th, 1871 : 

THE MUTUAL DEATH INSURANCE COMPANY. 

EABBI SAUL BENJAMIN KAHANA, OF JERUSALEM, 

President of the Board of Directors. 
Mr. Editor: Herex^-ith I send you the circular of a newly-found- \ 
ed and very peculiar biisiness association, and I most earnestly re- 
quest you to publish the following explanation thereof, so that all 
the deceased friends and relatives of your readers may lose none of 
its offered benefits. 



46 GEKSONl's SKETCHES. 

The association in question has proposed to provide for any per- 
son, who has died since the beginning of the world, a sufficient 
quantity of Kaddish, El-male-rachmim, Mi Sheberach, of every 
sort and description, and even 'of prayers at the "western wall" 
of the ruined temple of Jerusalem, for the moderate consider- 
ation of three dollars a year per soul, this premium to be paid by 
such among the living as desire these benefits for their departed 
friends. 

A. paragraph or two quoted entire from the constitution, will 
furnish, I think, a clearer insight into the matter : 

Sec. 1. " Every person, without distinction of sex or age, is enti- 
tled to become a member of this organization, provided he is will- 
ing to pay a monthly due of no less than twenty-five cents to the 
funds of the society." . 

Sec. 4. '' Every member is entitled to procure for his deceased 
friends or relatives the benefits of this society, provided he pays 
the respective dues (for each soul) as long as he lives ; and this is 
a great favor and benefit to both the proposer and proposed. " The 
last sentence of this section deserves the acknowledgments of all 
humanity. 

Sec. 6. declares that " it will be open for every one, \dz. , Phari- 
sees, Chassidim (names of denominations), Chebron, Zefath, and 
Tiberia (names of places) without distinction. " 

This clearly illustrates the liberal principles on which the organ- 
ization is based, and at the same time it opens for the society such 
a vast field of action, as has never been open before to any business 
organization in the world. Just consider, Mr. Editor, the number 
of souls which have departed from this world since the time of Abel, 
and which, without distinction of sex, age, nationality, or creed, may 
become members of this society I It is incalculable. 

This curious and unique invention in the way of insurance busi- 
ness is worthy of its author, the illustrious rabbi and President of 
the Board of Directors, and beats all that has been done till now by 
your boastful American speculators. 

Besides its infinite field of action, this association is exempted 
from many disadvantages under which life insurance associations 



APPENDIX. 47 

labor, viz., the directors need not be of financial reputation, nor 
need they invest any capital to secure credit for their enterprise, for 
everybody knows that the ' ' benefits" which they offer can be pro- 
cured for nothing. Neither need they invest much labor, or employ 
clerks at high salaries, for their chief duty is to take care of clients 
who are, or will be, in the " realms beyond" our little globe ; and 
what man, however active or industrious, was ever able to do as 
much ? 

Alas, that the most sacred feelings of our Orthodox co-religionists 
should be turned to such advantage by a set of miserable scoun- 
drels ! 

The two so-called rabbis from Jerusalem were checked in their 
first enterprise (see Jewish Times, of July 14). They claimed to be 
authorized to collect money for 'the religious establishments in Jeru- 
salem ; but they were declared barefaced swindlers by the most 
prominent rabbis of that city in the Hebrew periodical, Ghabazeteth, 
as well as by a correspondent in the Is7'(ulit, of Mainz, and by let- 
ters sent to some of the most prominent Israelites of this city. 
Their courage, however, never failed them, and " the Mutual Death 
Insurance Co." is the new flag under -which they are jailing, in the 
hope of cheating the last cent out of the pockets of the poor ped- 
dlers and glaziers of New York. They have named their society 
Ez C/iaim, the Tree of Life. Does it not sound like devilish 
mockery ? They may also reckon on some success, for they know 
well with whom they have to deal : the objects of their villainy is 
a benighted class, who read no newspapers, and will never accept 
the testimony of beardless men against such long-bearded saints. 

Mr. K. H. Sarasohn refused to participate in their scheme, after 
he had become convinced of their true character, and they have 
found a new champion of a less scrupulous and more boisterous 
character in the person of a certain Mr. Morris Alexander. 

Here the reader my ask if there are no men of honesty and com- 
mon sense among those on whom these parasites are preying, and 
why nothing is done by such men to unmask the hypocrites ? In 
answer to which queries I shall make the following statement : 

When I received the circular to which I have referred, and had 



48 GERSONI'S SKETCHES. 

perused its contents in the jargon in which it is printed, I immedi^ 
ately started to see Rabbi Moses Ahrenshon, of East Broadway, to 
learn something nearer of the enterprise. The readers of your 
paper will perhaps remember that it was this gentleman who pro- 
vided me with the facts which I laid before them in my article on 
*' Pious Scoundrels," and so I hoped that he could enlighten me on 
this subject, as well. I found the venerable man sitting, as usual, 
in his library, with a big, dusty volume on the table before him. 
The following conversation ensued : 

* ' Good morning, Eabbi ; I have not seen you for a long time, 
and come to inquire after your health. " 

" Good morning, my son ; I really thought you had forgotten my 
existence," was the kind rejoinder. 

Here the old matron, with whom I boast of being in high favor, 
came out of an adjoining room, sighing and groaning as usual, but 
always alive to her duties. 

" Mr. Gerschuni (so she is pleased to address me) is not the man 
to forget his friends. How have you been ?" 

" Why, I am quite well, as you see. I hope you are also well, for 
you look younger every time I see you. (The old lady is pleased 
with a compliment now and then.) Is there any news in this quar- 
ter?" 

The old man made a sign to his wife to keep quiet, and asked me 
whether I knew of any news ; his gesture did not escape my obser- 
vation, and gave me the idea that he had something on his heart, 
which he would not like his worthy helpmate to betray to me. I 
therefore started at once for the object of my visit. 

" Yes, Rabbi," I said, " I have heard strange sounds in the air, 
and have come here to get some information from you about their 
nature. Do you know anything of this ?" and I handed him the 
circular. 

* ' Of cours e, I know about it, but you are the last person to whom 
I would like to speak about it ; to say the truth, I am sorry you 
ever became aware of it." 

" Why, Rabbi, have you no more confidence in me, or do you 
think it can do me harm if I know of it ? I beg to differ with you 



APPENDIX, 49 

on the last point. The whole affair looks like a ' ' Death Insurance 
Company, " and I was thinking about procuring its benefits for the 
souls of Baruch Spinoza and Heinrich Heine. Can you not tell me 
what were the names of their mothers ?" 

The old man laughed heartily at my joke, and his wife wanted 
me to explain to her what funny thing I had said, that she might 
participate in her husband's mirth. I gave her an explanation which 
made the Eabbi laugh more and louder, and helped me in carrying 
my point, for my raillery gave a different turn to the dispostion of 
the venerable man, and he became more willing to talk to me about 
what I wanted to know. 

" I did not want you to learn anything about the schemes of these 
men, for I was afraid you would publish the facts ; and the blame 
would be put on me, and I would have to suffer for it more than I 
suffered for the publication of your first article about them. " 

"Why, did they really cause you trouble? I am indeed sorry 
to hear it, but yoii know it i^ not my fault ; you requested me to 
write it." 

'• God bless you, my son, I do not blame you at all ; of course, 
you acted as I requested you to do. But these men have paid me 
for it. They combined with Mr. Streisand, who is a bird of the 
the same feathers Math them and pronounced anathema on me. 
Then they placed agents near the door of my house and every man 
who wanted to consult me on some religious matter, or hire a 
seat in my place of worship for the ensuing festivals, was ad- 
dressed in the street, and informed that I am under anathema, and 
that it is unlawful for any good Israelite to have anything to do with 
me. You know what a Cherem is, and can imagine what an effect it 
had. And to crown all their j)roceedings they have drawn into their 
council one of my bitterest enemies, a wine-merchant, whose wine 
I declared some time ago improperly prepared, and have persuaded 
him to bring a suit against me which has cost me alredy more than 
I can afford, and God knows what will be the end of it. Besides 
that, Mr. Morris Alexander sent up his worthy helpmate to insult me 
for my proceedings, and when I left the room to avoid her, she 
raised a frightful uproar. She actually beat my poor wife. Now, 



50 



GERSONI S SKETCHES. 



these are the reasons why I am afraid of these men, and why I did 
not want you to write anything move about them. I request you, 
therefore, not to do it, for my sake. " 

I assured the poor old man that if I wrote anything about them, 
I would take good care that it should be known that I did it of my 
own accord, and that the blame rests this time entirely on my 
shoulders. 

I think the above statement gives a clear idea of the base weapons 
which these scoundrels use against the more honest of their Ortho- 
dox brethren. In my next I propose to illustate the character of 
their dupes, as well as their moral sentiments. I hope it will make 
an interesting cloumn for some of your readers. 

Heney Geesoni. 




METAMORPHOSE OF A LITHUANIAN BOY. 



^J^RT FIRST 

AS TOLD BY HIMSELF. 




3IY FIRST SECRET. 

NE fine summer's morning I was strolling along 
Zarietchy street, a narrow thoroughfare in Wilna, 
with a volume of the Talmud under my arm. A 
friend, by the name of Joshua, met me, and the 
following conversation took place : 

" Well, Joseph," said he, '■ I was just going to the Beth- 
Hamedrash to see you." 

" And I am going home to take tea," I rejoined 
" What do you want of me T 

" O, you cat-headed fellow," * my friend exclaimed, 
" have you forgotten that you agreed to go with me to 
Mr. L.'s to-day t" 

♦The cat, according to the Talmud, (Horioth, fol. 13, a.) is the 
most forgetful animal. Hence the appellation " cat-headed " for 
any one that has a bad memory. The Lithuanian Jewish dialect 
abounds with such expressions. 



52 

" For heaven's sake do not speak so loud ! There is 
my father coming right behind me. Wait for me on the 
lawn by the synagogue ; I shall join you within an hour." 
And I turned from him abruptly without another word. 
Soon afterward I was joined by my aged father. 

"You are going home for refreshment, I suppose," ray 
father said. " Come, I shall tell mother to prepare an 
omelet for you. You deserve such a treat for your dili- 
gent study to-day ; your teacher told me that you acquitted 
yourself finely." He took me by the hand and we pro- 
ceeded homeward. But before we arrived he suddenly 
asked me what Joshua had wanted of me, and then he 
warned me, perhaps for the tenth time, to have nothing to 
do with that boy. 

Joshua was a bright, good-natured fellow. His father 
was dead, and his mother, fearing lest he should be draft- 
ed into the army, sent him to the Rabbinical seminary, tiie 
pupils of that institution being exempted from military 
duties. According to the settled convictions of all " pious " 
Jews, saving children in that way from the army is simply 
preserving them to become renegades, inasmuch as pro- 
fane languages and sciences are taught in the seminary. 
This was the reason why my father did not want me to 
associate with Joshua ; he was afraid that I too would be 
influenced by modern ideas. 

But I liked Joshua ; he was a warm friend of mine. 
We studied under one teacher before he had the misfortune 
of becoming a student of modern knowledge. He was a 
more advanced scholar, older and stronger than I. He 
iilways protected rae against the assaults of the boys dur- 



THE METAMORPHOSE. 5e> 

ingthe time we studied in the 'Heder* Everybody spoke 
well of him at that time, and everybody knew also that 
he did not become a student at the seminary through, 
choice. Now, I could not understand why I should shun 
his company because of his misfortunes. 

Aniving at home my father praised me before my 
mother and sister, and ordered the promised omelet. I 
enjoyed the honors and the meal exceedingly, for I always 
liked to be praised a little, and to have an omelet with my 
tea. During the meal I informed my father that 1 intend- 
ed to go and see my old teacher, and that I would stay in 
his Beth-Hamedrash for the afternoon and evening serv- 
ices. Presently I was provided by my mother with thi*ee 
kppeeks, and my sister gave me a cake and a kiss, and off 
I started to the synagogue lawn. 

I found Joshua waiting, and immediately infonned him 
that I must be at my old teacher's Beth-Hamedi'esh for the 
afternoon service. We started on our errand at a quick 
pace ; for there was not much time at my disposal. On 
my way I treated Joshua with the cake which my sister 
had given me. He was pleased at my kindness, said 1 
was a good fellow, and called my sister an angel with 
dark eyes and black hair. The last seemingly trifling re- 
mark had very serious consequences and was pei-haps the 
hinge on which my life and destiny turned. I had in- 
tended asking my friend about the character and appear- 
ance of the renowned Hebrew poet to whom I was going 
to be introduced. It may be that I never would have 

* 'Red€r_ is a sort of private school exclusively for teaching Jew- 
ish lore. 



54 GERSONI 8 SKETCHES. 

had the coui*age to apj^roach ' this man, had I previously 
been better informed concerning him. Bat Joshua's flat- 
tering remark about my sister, whom I loved dearly and 
was very proud of, made me forget my proposed inquiries. 
I spoke about her alone until we reached the house toward 
which we were going, and there was no more time to ask 
questions. 

Joshua knocked at the door, and it was quickly opened 
by a servant girl. We went in and were ushered into a dark 
ante-chamber to wait until the host should wish to see us. 
Here I became silent and thoughtful, my mind wandering 
off in quite an unusual du'ection. I had always had a 
notion that a man who wrote so7i(/s and was reputed to be 
an Epicores,* ought to be a young man in a short coat^" 
with long trowsers, skipping ai'ound the yard or playing 
on the lawn with others like himself; and thus I expected 
to find Mr. L. engaged. I thought he would meet us 
laughing, play some trick upon Joshua, or make some 
funny remarks about myself, and then we would become 
friends. He would tell me how to compose "Hebrew 
songs," for which I would treat him Tvdth apples or cakes. 
Imagine my astonishment when I saw Mr. L. lived in a 
neat house, (with becoming window cmtains !) and that I 
was left in a dark ante-chamber to Avait until he should 
wish to see me, as if the man was the physician of our 
oity and no Israelite at all. I became very nervous. I 

* Such is the appellation of irreligious men of learning. 

t Pious people must wear coats that reach the heels and breeches 
just long enough to cover the knees, where they meet the hose-gar- 
ter and are tied. 



THE METAMORPHOSE. 55 

could not bear what Joshua was whispering to me, and 
would have run away if there had been time ; but a door 
opened and a venerable old man with a tall and stately 
figure appeared and called Joshua to enter with his friend. 
I no longer knew where I, was, and hardly noticed how I 
came to stand presently in a tidy little study before the 
same old man, who was now seated at a wiiting desk 
strewn with papers. I thmk Joshua pinched me to recall 
me to my senses. 

" Rabbi," said he advancing, " this is my friend Joseph, 
of whom I spOi^e to you yesterday at school." 

The aged man fixed his thoughtful eyes upon me ; and 
the book-shelves with the huge volumes, the inscriptions 
on the walls, the windows, ceiling, floor and the Rabbi 
himself with his desk, commenced to turn around me in 
such wild confusion that I clung fast to the door-knob lest 
I should be drawn into the whirl. ^ 

'• Why, you seem to be afraid of me ! " said the old man 
in a soothing voice. " Step nearer, my son, and compose 
yourself." He drew me nearer to his seat and put his 
hand upon my Shoulder. I still felt the penetrating glance 
of his eye, but his kind words and the gentle touch of his 
hand allayed my nervousness. I could look up into his 
mild face. 

" Where do you reside f he resumed. *' Your family 
is w^ell known to me, and your name I have learned from 
Joshua." 

Here my courage was completely restored. If the man 
knows my family he must know also that I am a Jachsen^ 
(of good extraction) and an Illuy^ (excellent young scholar) 
of which I always felt proud. 



56 



" In Zarietchy street," I replied. 

" And you have walked all the way hither ? It is no 
wonder you look so exhausted. Take a seat, my boy, and 
talk to me freely. Why did you not salute me when you 
came in f 

I felt ashamed, and thought the true reason would be 
ray best excuse. 

" I beg your pardon for that, Rabbi ; but I was so con- 
fused that I could not utter a word to save my life." 

" So I supposed, and I am pleased to hear you speak to 
the purpose. Joshua told me that you are a good boy and 
that you study well. Do you know anything of the 
Bible?" 

I did not know the meaning of the word "Bible," and 
when I was told that it was the name of the " twenty- 
four " canonical books, I said that I knew the Pentateuch 
and the Psalms. He asked me next what I knew of the 
Talmud, and I commenced to recount with joyful pride all 
the chapters that I had studied in the various volumes* — 
over one hundred and fifty folio sheets. But what was 
my astonishment when I noticed Mr. L.'s countenance (a 
thoroughly Rabbinical one) gradually assumed as sad an 
expression as though he were hearing some distressing 
story. Other rabbis used to listen with delight to my 



♦Beginners do not study the Talmud consecutively. Easy chap- 
ters are generally selected to suit and develope the abilities of the 
student. This method is pursued until the pupil is able to " read " 
— that is, to understand a page of the text with its commentaries 
without assistance, after which a regular course is taken up. 



THE METAMORPHOSE, 57 

achievements in this line. I surmised that he was growing 
tired of me, and said : 

"Rabbi, if I am troublesome, I would rather go." 

" No, my child. What makes you think so f 

"Well, I see you look so sad." The old man smiled 
and brushed back the hair which was hanging in disorder 
over my forehead. I was nearly moved to tears by his 
kindness. 

"No, my boy,'" he said thoughtfully,. " I am not tii-ed of 
you, and if I look sad, as you say, it is because I am soiTy 
for you and for the whole class of which you are a speci- 
men." What reason had he to be sorry for me and for 
such as are like me "? was the first question that was sug- 
gested to my mind ; but I thought I would rather not 
ask any questions I would go straight to my object, as 
soon as the opportunity offered itself 

"Joshua told me," resumed the old man, "that you are 
anxious to learn the Hebrew tongue. Do you want me to 
assist you in your studies ?" 

" Yes, Rabbi, if you please. I heard that you can write 
the best Hehreto songs, and my friend told me that you 
are a very kind man ; I therefore came to request you to 
instruct me in writing such songs, if you please. 

The old man was so irritated at my last remark that I 
was afraid to look at him. His voice revealed his emo 
tion as he asked me hurriedly : 

" What fluid do you use for writing, child ?" 

" Ink, if you please," I answered in a trembling voice. 

"Listen, my boy," he continued hoarsely, "you cannot 
become a writer of such S07igs, as you call them, until you 
4 



58 



shall have learned to write with blood ! With blood, I 
say !" he added with deep emphasis, arising from his seat. 
'' Not with the blood of Caparoth,* nor with the blood of 
any animal that is sacrificed for joyful festivities ; no, the 
blood which we use for writing our songs is that of our 
own hearts, sometimes diluted with bitter tears. You 
have an unlucky ambition, my child. To ^viite Hebrew 
songs, indeed ! There were no such songs Avritten for a 
long, long time. It is true, some of our race tried to 
write something that should resemble a song, but it was a 
failui'e ; they did not use the proper fluid. Now we begin 
again, and we must use our heart's best blood. Go, my 
boy, take your Gemara (volume of the Talmud) and study 
it assiduously. You will become a Rabbi, lead a lazy and 
useless life, pronounce everytlnng wicked except that 
which brings no good. You may perh^tps learn to write 
songs with the blood of Caparoth and be considered a holy 
man. But never think of writing such songs as mine." 

His face became so flushed, his eyes so sparkling, and 
his voice so loud as he proceeded, that I was almost fright- 
ened to death looking at him and listening to him. I 
need not add that I did not understand a word of what 
he said, although I did not lose one syllable of this re- 
markable outburst. I supposed he must be conjuring up 
spirits by means of sorcery or Cabala. 

Here, to my relief, a stout old gentleman came into the 
room. His gray beard reached almost to his girdle an<l 

* Caparoth — birds slauglitered the day before the day of Atone- 
ment and originally regarded as substitutes for sacrifices : but sub- 
sequently many superstitious ideas became imbued in the practice. 



THE METAMOEPHOSE. 59 

his dress was the usual long wide coat, known by the name 
oisupez, with a broad-brimmed, low cylinder hat. The only 
peculiarities about him were polished boots and cleanliness 
of dress, which seldom belong to a Talmud-bred Rabbi. 

" Good afternoon, Beril," the visitor said to the illus- 
trious poet, noticing Joshua and myself only with a pass- 
ing look. " Are you again worrying yourself with^naughty 
boys'?* I tell you it is no use . . . ." 

"No, Hirshel," interrupted the host, "only one of them 
is a pupil of our school and a very good boy he is too. 
The other," pointing to ne, " is Tobias' son, a boy of 

eleven years who knows a d sh lot of Talmud, and is 

as proud and knowing as a man of forty, so that you see 
the child in him only when questions of utility arise. He 
is precisely what the prophet characterized with the words : 
" Ephraitn is like a cake not turned."t He came to ask 
me for instruction in writing Hebrew songs. I told him 
how it is I write my songs and advised him to go home 
and try to provide a new Machzor and Selichoth % for us. 

♦ These two great men, whose naooaes I forbear to mention, took a 
personal interest in each pupil of the seminary I have mentioned, 
encouraging or reproving them individually. All the rest of the 
Jews treated such students with disdain. 

tThis verse occurs in Hosea viii, 7, and is a most expressive figure, 
characterizing a mind that is over-ripe in some respects, and utter- 
ly undeveloped in others. 

X Machzor and Selichoth — Books of chants and hymns, the first 
for every festival in the whole year round (which is indicated by 
the name Machzor from chazar to revolve or turn around); the lat- 
ter containing hymns to be recited before the morning prayers 
during the first and last weeks of the year— chants and hymns that 



60 aERSONl's SKETCHES. 

He comes from a stock that can do it, you know. Please 
talk to him a little, I must breathe the fresh air for a few 
minutes for I am grieved to death." Saying which he left 
the room. 

The visitor took a seat and puffing and blowing he un- 
buttoned his coat, disclosing a long woolen zizith,* hang- 
ing from under his waistcoat. Having rested himself a 
little, he called me nearer to him, took me between his 
knees and commenced questioning me about my family 
with the interest of an old acquaintance. He then wanted 
me to recite something from the Talmud — a thing I re- 
fused to do, assigning as a cause that it would make Mr. 
L. even angrier than he was ; my real reason was of quite 
a different nature. But he managed me so well, that be- 
fore I knew it, I was involved in a talmudical discussion 
with him, and I was so interested that I even forgot the 
host, who had returned and quietly resuming his seat was 
listening to our argument. After a while I remarked that 
it was nearly time for the afternoon service and that I 
would have to go. The host took a small Bible from the 
shelf an^ presented it to me, advising me to read it as 
much as I possibly could, never to stop at any difficult 
passage but always to go ahead trying to retain in my 
memory as many as possible of the passages I understood, 
and reading the whole book through every month if I 
could. I remonstrated that we had at home the whole 

more or less invoke forgiveness, wherefore the book is called 
Selichoth from solach, to forgive. 

*Zizith — The dress to which the Show-threads are attached ; other- 
wise called Arba-Canpoth. on account of its lapwing four corners. 



THE METAMORPHOSE. 61 

" twenty -four," with the commentaries of Mezudoth ; that 
I had no need of the book ; but the old man wanted me 
to take it and said that the commentaries of Mezudoth 
were precisely those which would do me the least good. 
I finally took the Bible and hurriedh left the house, for- 
getting even to thank him for the present. 

As soon as Joshua and I were in the street, he said to 
me : 

" You are a lucky fellow, Joseph ; my purpose in intro- 
ducing you to Mr. L. was simply to show you that he is 
altogether different from what people believe him to be. 
I little imagined that he would take a liking to you ; but 
it seems he has done it ; and what is more, Mr. K. himself 
was evidently pleased with you." 

Mr. K. ? was that the gentleman who wanted me to re- 
cite a passage in the Talmud ? I never heard of him be- 
fore." 

"O, you fool !" exclaimed Joshua with indignation. "I 
wonder how people can ever take an interest in such an 
ignoramus as you are ! You did not know that ' Bible ' 
means the 'twenty-four,' and most probably you are not 
aware that Mr. K. is the renowned Rabbi Hirshel Simches, 
the inspector of our seminary." 

" Rabbi Hirshel Simches ! Good Lord! I know more 
about him than you think ! But now I must take the way 
to my old teacher. We will talk more about this incident 
to-morrow between the afternoon and evening services. 

Joshua turned into another street, and, left to myself, I 
sank into a deep revery. The scenes I had attended had 
been veiy novel to me. The noble and imposing appearance 



62 

of the great poet were the very reverse of tlie conception 
I had formed of his person and manner. His mys- 
terious language, and his sudden anger contrasted strange- 
ly with his general kindness and thoughtfulness. Of Mr. 
K., too, I had entertained a very different notion. His 
name was often mentioned in our house, for he had stood 
in business relations with my father some twenty years be- 
fore, and often had I heard them comment on his deep 
learning and doubtful orthodoxy. I had always imagined 
that he must look fearfully shabby, and must behave very 
harshly toward religious folks. And then Mr. L.'s advice 
about reading the Bible — what a funny name it seemed ta 
me for the " Holy twenty-four ! " — And the small book 
which had been given to me, what was I to do with it '? I 
could not possibly take it home, for how could I tell 
my father where I obtained it ! In addition to these 
things, imagine the consciousness of having done some- 
thing that was in open violation of the wishes of my pa- 
rents, and the fear lest they should become aware of it ; 
and you will have some estimate of how I felt when I ar_ 
rived at the Beth-Hamedrash of my old teacher. But 
new emotions were in store for me there. 



n. 

THE BETH-HAMEDRASH IN TWILIGHT. 

" I AM glad to see that you remember me and that you 
are well," my old teacher addressed me, when he saw me 
coming ; " but you look so tired, Joseph." 



THE METAMOEPHOSE. 63 

" No, I am not tired, Rabbi ; I like to see you as often as 
you and my parents permit me to come here." 

The Batei-Medrashim in Wilna, as in every other city in 
Russian-Poland are provided wdth libraries of Talmudical 
and casuistic Rabbinical works, for the benefit of those who 
devote their time to such studies. Usually these places 
serve also the purpose of synagogues where service is held 
thrice every day. They are maintained by the seatholders 
01* patrons. In every Beth-Hamedrash there are three or 
more men whose sole occupation it is to study ; they are 
also maintained by the seatholders. These students or 
Bachiirirn, as they are generally called, dine each day at 
the table of another j^xitron, they reside in the Beth-Hamed- 
rash, on the benches of which they form their beds by 
night. My old teacher had become such a Bachur in his 
old age after he could no longer perform the functions of a 
teacher. But the Betli-Hamedrash which he had chosen 
for his abode did not very Avell correspond with his char- 
acter and fame. 

The patrons (or Baalei-Batim, as seatholders are com- 
monly called,) of this Beth-Hamedi-ash were known as 
men who did not discard modern knowledge ; and though 
it was rumored that their sexton spoke irreverently of the 
Sohar,* and that some of then* Bachurim were studying 
grammar and modern languages they did not discharge 
their sexton, nor did they reprove the Bachmim. My 
teacher, when asked why he chose this Beth-Hamedrash for 
his dwelling, instead of some other which enjoyed a better 

*A book of cabilistic commentaries on the 'Pentateuch. 



64: 

reputation, said that he did not care about the doings of 
others and that this place suited him best, as there were 
such books as he requked, and on account of its being a 
quiet place and affording him the rest he needed. 

About the time of the afternoon service the Beth-Hamed- 
rash usually presents a lively appearance. The seathold- 
ers coming in, some to pray, others to study an hour or 
so before or after services. The Bachm-im pursue their 
studies louder than usual in order to show themselves dili- 
gent before their patrons. Between the afternoon and 
evening services a lecturer reads the Bible with comment- 
aries to the people. But while he is reading and explain- 
ing, others are pursuing their own studies, and it becomes 
a hard task for the lecturer to speak in the midst of such 
confusion. One could see him sitting at the table talking 
and gesticulating to the ten or fifteen around him, but could 
scarcely hear a single word even in his immediate vicinity. 

In the Beth-Hamedi-ash of my teacher no one was per- 
mitted to study aloud dm'ing the delivery of the lecture. 
Their lecturer was a man of great eloquence, liked much 
by the younger generation, but very unpopular with the 
older people, for he was reputed to be a Maskil; that is, a 
man who confines himself not only to the laws (written or 
traditional), but who turns his mind also to the pursuit of 
other knowledge. In fact, Rabbi Chaim Rumshishker's 
sermons and lectures, though they seldom failed to make 
the desired impression on the hearts of his hearers, were 
disapproved of by the more pious and Talmud-trained 
scholars. " Why," the last would say, " all his similes and 
illustrations are taken from the German or Russian books, 



THE METAM0KPH08E. 65 

and his arguments are all after the manner of modern ni- 
quiring philosophy, which almost desecrates the subject 
of which it treats." But they would listen to him never- 
less, as they said, " for the sake of criticising," but the fact 
was his lectures were instructive and it was a pleasure to 
hear him. 

" Have you ever heard Chaim Rumshishker f my teacher 
asked. 

" No," I said ; " when he was, not long ago, invited to de- 
liver a sermon in our Beth-Hamedi-ash, my father told me 
that it would be more profitable for me to stay at home 
and study my lessons than to hear him ; and I acted in ac- 
cordance with his suggestions." 

" Well then, you can hear him here, and tell your father 
that I permitted you to do so." 

There was no more time for conversation. The sexton 
rapped on the table, which was the signal for the service 
to be begun. In the middle of the service the lecturer 
came into the house followed by a number of his admirers. 
He was a gentleman of a dark complexion and very ex- 
pressive countenance. The most remarkable feature in his 
face was his eyes. I never in my life saw such a pair of 
eyes. They were of extraordinaiy size and so black, so 
burning, and restlessly turning in their sockets, that one 
could only form an idea of the impression they made 
having seen them. By themselves they might be taken as 
an indication of the most dangerous character, but together 
with the sympathetic countenance and fmTOwed face of 
then- owner, his loose black hair, his round beard, and 
lips always curled in a good-natured smile, when he was 
4* 



66 



not in the pulpit, these eyes could not fail to impart the 
idea that there stood before you an energetic thinker wha 
could sympathize with you and love you ; they caused you 
to court his good disposition, but for all the world they 
made you dread being rebuked by that man. Imagine 
such features with a tall and slender figure wrapped in a 
long orleance coat, with a somewhat shabby cylinder on his- 
head and you have the live Chaim Rumshishker before 
you. 

During the loud recitation of Sh'monah-Esreh, (Litany) 
ray teacher took me to the table where the lecturer was to 
git and gave me a seat not far from him, requesting the 
two gentlemen between Avhom I was placed not to incom- 
mode me. After the service, the lecturer took his seat 
and all in the house crowded around the table. The sex- 
ton distributed Bibles, and the sixth chapter of Micha was 
announced for the text. During the lecture the house be- 
came crowded to its utmost capacity and all the windows 
had to be thrown open. 

The lecturer gave a preliminary sketch of the magnan- 
imity of God, and of tlie importance of Israel as the race 
which was chosen to carry fortli His truth into the world* 
He described how the Israelites "grew fiit and kicked," 
how they acted not in accordance with God's will. Being 
destined to teach morality and truth to the human race, 
they also were obliged to set a good example to all other 
nations, but they did not. They "rebelled against the 
Lord and his commandments." It was high treason. Then* 
inspii'ed men understood that grave consequences would 
follow and tried to open the eyes of the people. The 



THE METAMORPHOSE. 6T 

prophet Micha comes before the people laden with sucb 
thoughts, and announces that a great tiialns about to take 
place. The majestic mountains and hills, and the mighty 
foundations of the world are summoned as judges and 
jurors. The plaintive is the Lord and the. defendant — 
Israel. 

After such an introduction the people are ]>repared to 
hear from the prophet the severest charges against them 
and subsequently perhaps some apologies for their evil 
deeds. But the prophet is determined not to let theV 
thoughts have their own course ; he is aware of the senti- 
ments he has awakened in their hearts, and leaving them 
for a while to their reflections, he startles them with a new 
and unexpected featm'e of illustration. lie brings the 
complainant before them. But instead of the mighty Lord 
at whose word the severest judgment is expected, he ap- 
pears in the character of an aged father, tenderly reprov- 
ing and admonishing his naughty child. The people are 
astonished, their attention is riveted to every word uttered 
by the prophet ; he addressed them in the name of God with 
the endearing* appellation " my people," and brmgs for- 
ward all the goodness of the Lord in a most touching 
manner. They are moved to tears of gratefulness when 
they hear such kind words instead of the grave charges 
which they expected ; the prophet knows their sentiments, 
it is just what he * wanted to call forth. He stimulates 
them to the highest degree, assuming the character of one 
of his hearers, he exclaims, " What could be returned for 
all these manifold goodness of God *? Thousands of sac- 
lifices ? Myriads of oil rivers ? The oflfering up of ob- 



68 

jects which are dearest to man's heart, his first-born, the 
fruits of his body ? No, nothing of the kind is requked 
of them. Man may enjoy all the blessings he has if he 
will but do justice, love mercy and walk morally before 
the Lord." Could there be any more practical teaching 
given with a better effect f 

The lecturer went on in this strain, carrying the imagin- 
ation of his audience with him ; his clear and impressive 
voice echoed through the building, and many a heait 
heaved sobs and groans. As for me, child as I was, I un- 
derstood every word he uttered, so clear was his expres- 
sion. I was nearly choked with my tears at fii'st, and my 
little Bible bears the marks of those tears which I could 
swallow no longer. He concluded >vith a disquisition on 
the imagination in general, the natm*e of poetry and the 
incomparable illustrations of the prophets in particular. 
He dre^ the lines between different characters of speech, 
prose, song, poetry and prophecy ; the last was, according 
to his ideas, a combination of the most glowing imagina- 
tion, profound knowledge of the state and character of the 
people, prompted by the greatest sympathy and love for 
them, with a sagacious foreknowledge of their fate. Such 
a fortunate combination of feeling, knowledge and elo- 
quence, is the highest spiritual gift God ever vouchsafed 
to man ; it is the very Holy inspiration, 

I never in my life said my prayers mt>re fervently than 
I did the evening prayers after this lecture. I felt that a 
crisis was wrought within me and that I needed assistance 
of God in my futm'e undertakings. I anticipated that the 
Talmudical wisdom which was hammered into my mind 



THE METAMORPHOSE. 69 

was not of the kind to teach me the right understanding 
even of the holy "twenty-four." Why, a few hours before 
if any one had opened a Bible at the Vlth chapter of 
Micha and would have asked me whether I understood it, 
I certainly would have answered in the affermative, seeing 
that there are no difficult passages in all that chapter ; and 
now I saw how far I was from understanding it. I sus- 
pected even that the Pentateuch and the Psalms which I 
had gone through with a teacher, were not understood by 
rae in the right manner. O, if I only could get a teacher 
like Chaim Rumshishker! 

After the evening seiwice was over my old teacher said 
to me: 

•'Why, Joseph, you were prepared to hear the lecture : 
you brought your own Bible along." 

I stammered something to the effect that the Bible was 
not mine, that some friend gave it to me to keep it for him ; 
but I could not maintain the deceit and confessed every- 
thing to the old man. Seeing that he did not reproach rae 
severely for my proceedings, I even ventured to ask his 
advice what I was to do with this book as I would not 
have my father know of my interview with L. My teacher 
said nothing, but required me to give him the Bible, which 
I did with some reluctance, only because of his imperative 
gesture. He questioned me a good deal about the partic- 
ulars of my interview with the illustrious poet, and main- 
tained such a serious and thoughtful expression that I 
dared not to ask him the explanations I desired to have 
about the poet's remarks. 

He informed rae then that he would go with me to my 



70 GEBSONl's SKETCHES. 

father. I begged him not to betray me, but he answered 
nothing. On our way from the Beth-Hamedrash I suffered 
the greatest agony for fear of what my teacher might say 
to my parents, but when we arrived in the house and I 
saw that my two elder brothers were there I felt relieved, 
for I thought it impossible that the old man should dis- 
parage me before my brothers. 

The teacher told my father that he had kept me in his 
Beth-Hemedrash, and had allowed me to hear ChaimRum- 
Bhishker, and praising me for the attention with which I 
had listened to the lecture and for my great emotion on 
his admonitions, he bluntly asked my father what he 
intended to make of me. 

"Why, a scholar to be sure." 

" That is right, a scholar he shall be, but you know, 
Tobias, Joseph has a mind of his own. Ordinary instruc- 
tion would not do for him. If kept on in the ordinary 
course of Talmud study, he will be apt to take to other sub- 
jects of his own accord and in his own way, which 
would not be quite the thing we want. 

" You really frighten me, Judel," my father said. " Have 
you discovered any traits of such a character in my boy ? 
He is always so patient and obedient that I can hardly sus- 
pect him capable of taking a course which would displease 
us." 

"Nevermind that," resumed the teacher. "Joseph is 
an excellent boy, but nevertheless he must be trained iji a 
different manner. How would it be, for instance, if I 
would undertake to read with him Siphrei Mussarf* I 

♦Books of Ethics and admouition. 



THE METAMORPHOSE. Yl 

would do it with pleasure thrice a week and would not re- 
quu'e auy remuneration." 

My brothers commenced to remonstrate that I was too 
young for such subjects ; that I must be kept exclusively 
at the Talmud for at least two years longer, until my 
intellectual faculties would become cultivated and sharp- 
ened. I could then study such books by myself and ap- 
preciate their contents in the right way. But the teacher 
argued that dry, intellectual study would tire me if there 
were nothing agreeable to the heart intermixed with it, and 
he carried his point. My father gave his consent to my 
studying Siphrei Mussar three times a week, and appointed 
a generous remuneration for the teacher, saying: "I do not 
want anybody to do a thing for me or for my children for 
nothing, as long as I can afford to pay for it. You are 
worth especial thanks, Judel, for the interest you take in my 
boy." 

Before leaving our house the old teacher said to me : 
*' Now, Joseph, you are to study some nice things with 
me, but mind, be regular in coming to your lessons. 
Here I have a present for you," taking out of his bosom 
my little Bible and handing it to me with a significant 
look. "Take this book and read in it every day a few 
pages. When you shall have finished, commence it again 
from the beginning, and if there is anything you do not 
imderstand, consult the commentaiy of Rashi, or ask me for 
an explanation." He appointed the days when I had to 
come to him, and went away. There was some discussion 
afterward, my brother not liking the proceedings nor the 
advice of the old man ; but my parents had great confidence 
in him, and the matter was settled. 



72 



When the house became quiet and my sister sat on my 
bed to have the usual chat before we fell asleep, I com- 
menced to pour out all my feelings to her. I told her every- 
thing I had experienced that eventful day, not omitting a 
word even of Mr. L.'s conversation, or of the lecture I had 
heard. The good soul cried and laughed and embraced me 
by turns. She hit upon the idea that Mr. L. was writing 
poetry and not songs, and that my bluntness and simplicity 
made him angry for a moment ; but she was quite certain 
that he reconsidered it afterward and loved me, else why 
had he made me a present of the Bible. Concerning the 
"blood of Gaparoth," she thought I misconstrued his 
words ; he most prabably wished all those who irritate " the 
blood of his heart to go a CaparahJ'* The teacher was 
pronounced the kindest of men in creation for having extri 
cated me from such a scrape about the little Bible. 

It was resolved that 1 should sometimes go to see the 
illustrious poet, secretly of course. If he should still be 
angry with me, she would go to him and explain my con- 
duct as the result of mere simplicity, and meaning no of- 
fense whatever. " For it is bad, you know, to have such a 
venerable man think bad of you." The Bible I should 
read together with her in the cellar, lest our parents should 
see it, for which she would pay me five kopeeks every 
week. 

r need not recite everything that a boy of eleven and a 
girl of fourteen could devise. Our conversation lasted 
nearly until daybreak, and when she went to rest I could not 

♦Wishing a man " to go a Caparah." is the same as wishing him 
' ' to suffer for the righteous. " 



THE METAMORPHOSE. i6 

sleep. My thoughts were wandering. Wlien the moi'n- 
ing dawned, I had before me the Beth-Harnedrash in twi- 
light, with Chaim Rumshishker's big eyes revolving in their 
sockets like live coals. Mr. B. L. sometimes patting him 
on the shoulders, and sometimes leading me in some dark 
forest, all bespattered witli tlie blood of Oa])aroth ; his own 
big heart hanging on an old oak and dripping Avith blood 
on the pages of my lit^tle Bible. My old teacher smiling to 
me, and telling me not to be afraid. My parents looking 
at me indiflerently, as if I were a stranger to them, and my 
beloved sister coming to meet me, kissed me, whispering: 
"Joseph, it is nearly eight o'clock ; you must rise for morn- 
ing prayers," which I actually did. 

I was awakened to my duties : to attend service and 
study Gemara, but somehow or other the last task was not 
pursued with the iisu-il good will. My old teacher himself 
said last night that it >\ as too dry a subject for me. ^^'lly 
was I not instructed in the Bible? What kind of nice 
books will the teacher study with me ? On such topics 
my thoughts were running, and I accomplished very little 
on that and on the following days. 

Sometime afterward, Joshua came and told me that Mr. 
L. inquii-ed after me, and would be pleased if I came to see 
him. I went to him, and apologized for my stupidity in hav- 
ing termed his poetry " songs. " The poet was much pleased 
with my statements about the lecture and the proceedings 
of my old teacher ; he advised me to study Hebrew gram- 
mar, and to ask him whatever I could not understand. I 
followed his advice secretly ; moreover, I engaged Joshua 
to teach me the elementary rudiments of the Russian and 
5 



74 

Geiman languages as he was taught in the seminary. No- 
body knew about these proceedings except my sister, and 
I kept up so well with the lessons of my talmudical teacher 
that no suspicion was aroused. All the kopeeks which I 
obtained from my mother or sister were spent on books, 
which I kept at Joshuas house. Late night vigils were 
employed in pursuing my new course of studies. 



III. 

TOO LATE FOIl MENDING. 

One of my brothers (Providence had graciously provided 
six for me before I was sent into this world) in Wilna is 
a wealthy, industrious man who enjoys a good reputation 
in the Beth-Hamedrash as a scholar, and in the market as a 
man of honor and credit. He is a baker by profession, not 
because he understands an\i:hing of that trade — far be it 
from a son of our family to learn a trade! — If Solomon 
were to bake bread for his own consumption he would be 
compelled to live on herbs ; but he knows that bread is 
rnade of Horn', which is nothing else but corn pm'chased in 
the market and ground in the mill. This is about all he 
knows of the baker's trade, and when he has bought the 
corn and is satisfied that it had been sent down to the mill, 
he leturns peacefully to his Talmud, leaving all the rest of 
the work to be done under the superintendence of his better 
half 

Bathy-Hinde, his wife, is a brave woman in' the true 
sense of the word. She works fi'om six in the morning till 



THE METAMORPHOSE. 75 

late at night with a steady i-egularity which is seldom to 
be seen in any man or woman. I do not exactly know how 
Solomon came to liis business : but when I had leai-ned to 
distinguish between a smith and a baker I had the satis- 
faction of learning that my lirother's prefession was the 
latter, and that he kept two ovens at constant work (an oven 
produces about 1500 pounds of bread in a day). His busi- 
ness gradually increased, and when I left my native land, 
Solomon had eight ovens at constant work and was a mill- 
owner ; his son-in-law was then engaged as secretary, 
and the whole business \vas. as usual, superintended by 
Bathy. For Solomon would not for a hundred ovens have 
given up one single hour dedicated to the study of the 
Talmud, nor would his brave helpmate desire him to do so, 
for she is as pious as she is brave. 

Here is a representation of Solomon's house and estab- 
lishment. 

On one side of the court is the baking establishment, 
constituted of four large rooms, with two ovens, four work- 
ingmen (a dough man and an oven-man for each oven) two 
boys and the necessary utensils in each room. On the 
opposite side of the court are the apartments of the baker, 
five rooms opening one into another. The first room, 
in which a jjau- of scales are suspended, is the depository 
for bread, the second is the counting room, and the other 
rooms are his residence. In the back-yard there is a de- 
pository for wood and a stable for horses. 

The morning begins at four o'clock in the ro(mi where 
the produced bread is deposited, the men working at one 
oven weighing the loafs (a loaf weigh.s 4 to 27 pounds) one 



76 GKKSOJS'I'S SKETCHES. 

after another, superintended by a man who is working on 
another oven, and in another room. At nix o'clock the 
mistress aj)pears and the accounts are handed to her. If 
it is proved that some bread is wanting, which happens 
very seldom, the man who is marking the figures, not the 
one who baked the lot, is made responsible for it ; thus it 
is so arranged that each party has to look out for the ex- 
actness of the other. When the mistress receives the lists 
she adds the summaries and apparently does not pay any 
attention to the particulars. This work done, she goes 
through the establishment followa^d by the men of each 
department respectively ; she examines everything and her 
orders run like this : 

" Ephraim, your dough is too sour, see to it at once. 
Ohaim, your oven is quite cold. At what hour was your 
second lot produced *? At half past two t That won't do ; 
your bread is too warm for being weighed. What is your 
boy doing there 1 A sack torn agan ? If it happens once 
more I will make you bear the consequences ; you ought 
to see to your sacks before you send " them down to the 
mill. Why, the rye flour has not been brought yet? 
Send your boy to the miller and tell him if lie does not 
send it by ten o'clock, I will give you a holiday and make 
him pay for tlie lost time. Nahum, has your boy seen to 
the horse ? Follow me into the stable. The poor animal 
is thirsty, has not eaten his oats 1 Do not work him this 
forenoon, hire another horse for your purpose; that will 
make you think more about youi- poor animal. The wood- 
store has been locked to-night, that is right. Simchah^ 
you have done your work nicely : I wish they were all like- 



THE METAMORPHOSE. 77 

'you," and so foith. As her stately figure makes the round, 
her mouth, which is apparently foi*med only to be kissed, 
is reproving, correcting, threatening and encouraging in 
such an unparalleled business-like manner. 

About 7 o'clock she retires to take tea with her family ; 
there again she is the perfect house-wife, looking to the chil- 
di'en's dresses, arranging the table and giving orders to the 
servant girls about dinner. In the meantime the customers^ 
mostly women, gather in the first room and choose the lots 
they require. Bathy appears again with her writing ma- 
terials, the carts stand ready to convey the bread into the 
stores ; she sits and marks the weight of each loaf which is 
transported. Engaged in this vVork she notices that the 
servant girl has not passed through the room with her 
basket ; she stops and calls the girl: " Feige, do you intend 
to let us have no dinner to-day'^ Be quick about your 
work, I want you to be back from the mai'ket at 10 o'clock." 
Then she retires to the counting room, speaks to those who 
call on business, arranges her books, goes out to collect 
bills, and so she is laboring the whole day cheerfully and 
exactly like a clock-work till the evening, when she becomes 
again metamorphosed into a perfect house-wife, enjoying the 
last few hours of the day with her family. 

Bathy -Hinde is by no means an ideal woman of the 
author, nor is this description of her work an exaggeration. 
She lives and works in this way, as everybody who knows 
her will testify ; but her husband is the baker nevertheless, 
and in her transactions she never fails to make the people 
understand that she is responsible to her husband for every 
kopeek of money. 



T8 

On Friday the work is stopped about noon-time and every 
thing is arranged for the Sabbath. The workingmen come 
in for then* wages and are addressed by the mistress 
with more politeness than on the week-days. A big 
basket of cut bread with a box of small change is placed 
in the first room, and one of the children distributes it to a 
crowd of beggars who come, knowing already what they 
have to receive there. The door of the next room is left 
open for the more respectable poor who receive every week 
something fi'om the hand of the mistress herself It happens 
sometimes that the poor in the first room make a noise, 
quarreling between themselves or being dissatisfied with 
the gift they receive. On such occasions Bathy is there 
in a moment : " Now, do not quarrel here, if you please, 
I don't want my child to hear your rough talking. Tf my 
husband hears it he will withhold his gifts." 

The following statement will illustrate the sympathies- 
of my sister-in-law, and together with the assertion of my 
mother that " all the young men of Wilna were in love 
with Bathy for her beauty and ladylike manners before she 
became the happy bride of Solomon," the reader will have 
a complete illustration of a perfect Polish Jewess. 

It is the custom of our co-religionists to sing the ode on 
brave women of the last chapter of ProA^erbs (from v. 10 
to the end) on every Friday evening returning from the 
synagogue. Once upon such an evening my brother re- 
turned home accompanied by^two poor scholars whom he 
invited to participate in his Sabbath-meals. The house 
was all illuminated and gay, and he was walking to and 
fro singing the aforementioned ode. He noticed that his 



THE METAMORPHOSE. ^ 

wife, who sat at the well-dressed table reading some book, 
suddenly dropped the volume, and her eyes were full of 
tears. He thought that reading the story of Joseph's trials, 
or Moses' pleading before his death, had touched the heart 
of his wife. " Now, Bathy," he said, " that won't do. If 
you will till my plate, your eyes being full of tears like 
that, 1 will not enjoy my meal. It is remarkable about 
you women, that you can read one .and the same stor}^ a 
hundred times and cry over it the last as well as the first 
time." 

" But I was not crying about any story, Solomon ; I was 
thinking of something else." 

'' Now, what is it that makes you cry on the holy Sab- 
bath, come tell me about it." They went into the next room 
where I was sitting, my brother addressed me : " Go into 
another room, Joseph, Bathy has something to tell me." 

" No, no, let the boy alone, I can speak to you in his 
presence. You w^ere singing the ode with such a charm- 
ing expression and voice, and it occuiTed to me whether 
I could ever deserve any such jjraises. God know^s, Solo- 
mon, that I do my best to be as dutiful as I can." 

Tears in the eyes of the happy husband were the result 
of this confession : •' You are my dear, dear wife !" was all 
he could utter. 

It was about a year after the occurences narrated in the 
two ]»revious chapters. I was with my mother in Sol- 
omon's liouse on a Saturday night. Another brotlier and 
an uncle of mine were there and the entertainment ran in 
a fimiiliar manner at the tea-table. I was playing with my 
nieces in another corner of the room, wlien Solomon called 



80 



tome: •=' Joseph, I hear you are talking with the girls 
pretty lively, and when somebody speaks to you of some- 
thing more important, you are short and rather demure in 
your answers. Come, let us hear how you are getting 
along with your studies !" 

The women drew to one side of the table, a volume, 
Baba Kama, was taken from the shelf, and I commenced 
to recite the result of my studies of last week on the treat- 
ise of Z'niyofliJ^ 

Then 1 had to undergo the cross questions of m}' broth- 
ers and uncle. We arrived at a point where I could not 
agree with the opinion of my brothers, and quite a lively 
discussion was the result. My mother was looking with 
pride on us all ; my sister-in-law was untiring in her plead- 
ing that they should " let the boy have some refreshment 
before they continue to torture him ;" and my little nieces 
pressing around me and looking Avith their dark, sweet eyes 
all amazed, wondered what this hot controvei'sy ndght 
signify ; and my uncle, smoking his cigar, asserted that he 
would "not speak a single word and would see )iow the 
young rascal would fight it out against his seniors."' I was 
the hero of thf moment, and felt that even my antagonists 
were inwardly pleased with me, which encouraged me 
more for tlie contest. 

In the midst of the noise a customer came in. I had the 
occasion to see him sometimes transact! nir business with 



* It is in the first Perek of the named voinme, a treatise on dam- 
ages done by Rt>nie animal indirectly : as for instance, a hen shuff- 
ling in the ground caused a piece of Mood to fly and break some- 
thing. 



THE METAMOKPHOs^E. 81 

Bathy, ;ind observed that he was treated by her with the 
greatest respect. This time he visited my brother's house 
as a friend and not on business. 

" Hallo ! Little Joseph speaking so loud !" he said after 
the \\s\va\ salutations ; " I always thought that he (30uld not 
<5pen his mouth." 

'- Yes, Keb Lippman," Solomon rejoined, '• he can when 
he wants to. Now. this good-for-nothing is contending 
a'T^ainst us for the last hour and camiot be made to ac- 
knowledge his mistake. Would you please hear the sub- 
ject of our discussion and speak a word with us f 

" Joseph." said the guest. '^ you must consider well the 
opinion of your brothei-s, for they ai-e your seniors, and pro- 
found scholars." 

" But I can't submit without conviction," said I. " I 
would not do it even to the opinion of my teacher," 

My uncle Isuglied loud and said ^t was •' a perfect pleas- 
ure to hear that rascal talk with such self-reliance." Tlie 
whole assembly exchanged glances ; but I will never forget 
the expression of my mother's eyes at that moment ! The 
rehearsal began. Mr. Lippman examined, questioned, and 
«j)oke pro and con. The discussion became lively again, 
and the ]>oint was decided by myself having brought for 
Avard a new argument in favor of my brother's opinion, 
^[y uncle fell to kissing me as ardently as lie could ; they 
.all kissed me in turn, my nu)ther with tears in her eyes. 
Mr. Lippman said 1 was the sharpest boy he ever saw : he 
was certain that I would become a great man. .Vs for me, 
I was glad that 1 could return to ])lay with my nieces. 

Some time aftcn'ward I was called again and informed 
5* 



82 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

that I would have to leave Wiliia for some small townv 
probably Lida, where I would have to study diligently till 
my Bar-Mitzwah. When asked by my mother whether I 
liked this arrangement, I replied that I would prefer stay- 
ing home ; but, if they tht)ught it was better to send me 
aTvay, why, I could do nothing but submit to their superior 
judgment. 

" Here I recognize a brother of my husband I" exclaimed 
Bathy. " Stubborn in his ideas concerning any important 
subject, but nevertheless ever ready to submit to the advice- 
of more experienced persons." 

The reason that such a plan was formed was that ray 
brothers had observed that I had some secret pm-suits ; they 
suspected that I had been in communication with " some 
fellows of the new world," and thought it advisable to make 
an end of such things by sending me to some small place 
where I would have no,opj>ortunity to do anything else but 
study the Tolmud. Tliis plan was fonned some time pre- 
viously ; but they did not know where to send me to. This 
evening Reb Lippinan fixed my destination. They told 
him their hopes, doubts and fears concerning me, and about 
the plan they had formed. Reb Li])pman had a sister in 
Lida, her husband w^as a well-to-do and a very respectable 
man ; he also was personally acquainted with the illustrious 
Rabbi of that place, and if my family so desired, he w^ould 
write to his brother-in-law to board me in his house, and to 
the Rabbi, to become my teacher and guide ; his sister too, 
he was sure, would treat me like her own child. The offer 
was acce})ted with thanks and I was botlnd for Lida. 

It would })erhaps have been a good plan indeed, had it 



THE m:etamorphose. 83 

been executed a few months sooner. " Stolen water tastes, 
sweet," and my secret pm-suits pleased me veiy much. In 
the last nine or ten months, I acquh'ed a fair knowledge of 
the Hebrew grammar, learned to read and waite the Rus- 
sian and Gei-man languages tolerably well, and obtained 
some knowledge of Arithmetics. I was about to commence 
the study of Geography and History, when I was so unex- 
pectedly to leave Wilna. The next day I stole away from 
the Beth-Hamedi*ash to impart the news to my friend 
Joshua; he transmitted them to Mr. L., w^hom I went to 
see a few days later. 

The time of my departure aiTived ; my good parents 
packed up my little tnmk with the necessary requisites ; a 
pair of Tephilin (Philacteries), a prayer book, a Tephilath- 
Haderech,* and some Talmudical works were among them. 
My dear sister packed in some sweetmeats, cakes and ko- 
peeken. The letters of recommendation were handed to 
the driver who engaged to take care of me. 

Messrs. L. and K. had been untiring in instructing and ad- 
vising me whenever I had an opportunity to come to them. 
They gave me some books, and Joshua was my conlidant 
in keeping them for me. Thus at my departure, a Geog- 
raphy, a History of Russia, Russian and German grammars 
and readers, a pocket dictionery and a Hebrew grammar 
of Ben-Zeb, were packed up and taken by Joshua to an 
inn about a mile distant from Wilna, where the drivers- 
usually stop for a few hours after leaving the city. I was 
escorted by some of my family, to that place and Jot^hua 
had to hide himself with the package under a wagon 

* Book of prayers to he recited on a journey. 



.84 

until the last fai'ewell had been taken. When 1 was seated 
in the wagon, and the driver was about to go on, Joshua 
appeared from his hiding place, and requested him to wait 
a little, as he had something to transmit to Joseph Tobias. 
I crawled forwai'd from among the other passengers (a 
Polish young lady, two elderly Jewesses, a Hebrew preacher 
two Bachm-im, a Russian student, two peasants, a mer- 
chant, and a Greek Catholic minister), who were all packed 
together with then- parcels. 

"Here, Joseph," my friend said with a knowing glance, 
'" are some books which our teacher wants you to take 
.along and study diligently. He ordered me to tell you 
that your letter was very well written, and that you should 
write to him frequently ; he will coiTect yom' letters 
and send them back to you, in order that you should learn 
to avoid fuither mistakes. He will be happy, and the 
other teacher too, to learn that the continuation of your 
studies are as profitable as they were till now. You are 
a lucky boy," he continued, with tears in his eyes, " every- 
body likes you so well, and it is hard even for me, who 
knows that you are such an ass, to i^art with you." We 
embraced one another heartily ; he begged my pardon for 
his rude words, but I was never ' offended at them, for 1 
knew that it was his nature to speak like that. After a 
three days' journey I amved in Lida. 



METAMORPHOSE OF A LITHUANIAN BOY, 

P^RT SECON33. 

AS GATHERED FROM RELIABLE SOURCES. 



I. 

THE INTERESTING STRANGER. 

The Jewish community of Shirvint, a small town in Li- 
thuania, numbering about 400 inhabitants, was quite excited 
with curiosity. A young man had anived there, and intro- 
ducing himself to the Rabbi as a student of the Oral Law, 
declared his intention to remain in Shu-vint for some time 
in order to pursue his studies under the guidance of that 
Rabbi. Nobody knew where the young man came from,, 
or what was the natm-e of his credentials, but everybody 
was satisfied with regard to his respectability, for the Rabbi 
treated him with gi-eat condescension, and informed the 
leaders of the community that he is an excellent scholar 
and comes well recommended. He evidently did not choose 
to give any further particulars about the young man, and 
nobody dared to question him about that. 



Sid GEKSOJSl's SKETCHES. 

The appeaiunce of tlie stranger was not like tliat of the 
general class of Talm'udical scholars. Cleanliness of dress 
and polished manners staini)ed him as a cnrions specimen. 
He was not ^hy or retired in his deportment, and when 
drawn into a conversation, he spoke freely and enjoyed 
heartily a good joke : but he never spoke of himself, and 
tried to avoid all allusions to his own personality. All 
these peculiarities are quite unusual with students of the 
Talmud. 

Immediately after the introduction of the student, the 
Rabbi issued an order that " everybody who is willing to con- 
tribute toward the maintenance of the new student, shall 
send in his donations or meals to the synagogue instead of 
inviting the young man to call for them. Nor is anybody 
permitted to in\dte him to the house for the usual Sabbath 
meals, he bemg the guest of the Rabbi himself for the Sab- 
bath as long as he chooses to remain in Shirvint." There 
was anotlier peculiar circumstance about iiim : He engaged 
a private room in the Wliite Inn, instead of making the 
synagogue his residence, and the Kal>bi himself sent some 
bedclothes to him. Such tokens of predilection on the 
part of the Rabbi were enough to establish the populaiity 
of any student ; in fact, nothing moi-e could be done even 
for a retired rabbi ; but it was very astonishing that the 
stern Rabbi of Shirvint should do so much for a young man 
■of about eighteen years of age. Tlie good Shirvintians had 
sufficient reason to be astonished. 

The Sabbath eve arrived. The most prominent members 
ot the community gathered, as usual, in the house of their 
Rabbi after supper. Tliey found the stranger sitting at the 



THE METAMORPFIOSK. 87 

table engaged in a discussion about some Talmudical topic 
with their venerable spiritual guide. They listened to the 
controversy with great respect, and noticed that the young 
man was actually a profound scholar. He argued with 
great knowledge of the Talmudical literature, and some- 
times even defeated the arguments of the Rabbi with great 
success. The latter seemed to derive .much pleasure from 
the sharp arguments of his opponent, notwithstanding his 
occasional defeat. 

On the Sabbath morning, the young man was called up 
to the reading of the Law in the synagogue. The congi-e- 
gation was astonished to hear thattlie title of a Rabbi was 
conferred upon that young man, and learned that his name 
was Joseph-ben-Tobias. The young man pronounced the 
blessings and read the portion of Scriptm*e with a sonorous 
voice and good eifect. The Ladies, who were peeping 
through the small w^indows of their department into the 
synagogue, were charmed with the title and voice of the 
stranger. In Shirvint, as well as anywhere else, the ladies 
are easily impressed with talent and merit. 

Tlie coDtributions toward the maintenance of Rabbi 
Joseph were hencefoith very satisfactory. Small vessels of 
soup and meat were regularly carried into the synagogue 
bv the dauorhters of the most distinaruished members of 
the comnnmity ; sometimes even by their worthy helpmates 
themselves. The polished manners of the young scholar 
won their susceptible hearts. Subsequently they had more 
reason to lilv.e hira, for he had a peculiar way in winning 
the love of their children. He played with the little ones 
in his hours of recreation, taught them to write in sand, to 



88 



reckon, to recite Hebrew passages, and distributed toys 
among them if they appeared on the playgi-ound orderly 
dressed and combed. Thus tlir young man succeeded in a 
very short time to gain the respect of the gentlemen, the 
love of the ladies, the attachment of the children : in short,. 
he became the favorite of the whole community. 



11. 



Among those who brought meals to the synagogue for 
Rabbi Joseph was Hannah, the daughter of the Parness 
(president of the community). )She was a young gu'l, fifteen 
years of age, with a white skin, black hair, eyes of a deep 
blue, a well-rounded figure, and a very symmetrical face. 
Her teint was very healthy looking, and her motions as 
quick and lively as her innocent heart was light. She came 
to the vestry room regulai'ly three times every Tuesday, 
and remitted her message for Joseph to the janitor. On 
one occasion she addressed the Janitor : 

" Please give that to Kabbi Joseph right away, for the 
soup is getting cold. We killed, two geese yesterday. 
They are young picvcs, but very fat nevertheless. I will 
bring you some meat when I come next time this evening, 
but you must not tell anybody about it, for mamma will 
scold me. Why do they make such a fuss about that stu- 
dent 1 Is he really such a nice man ?" 

" Rabbi Joseph is actually a vei'y fine man and very kind, 



THE METAMORPHOSE. 89 

too," rejoined the janitor. " I was sick last week, and he 
brought me a pillow to lie upon, got me some medicine, 
and treated me as kindly as my own children, or my wife, 
of blessed memory, would have done, if I were worthy to 
have them living at my side. God bless him and you, too, 
Hannah." 

" O, he is a kindhearted man," resumed the girl ; " that 
is very nice of him. But he is not pretty, is he ? He is 
so pale, and looks so thoughtful ! He is not as awkward 
as the other students are, but he is not nice looking by any 
means. My friend Malcah is of the same opinion." 

" Man can see only the outward appearance, but God 
knows the quality of the heart," rejoined the old man 
piously. At this instance the young scholar came out of 
the synagogue, and the janitor resumed : " This is Hannah, 
Kabbi Joseph, the daughter of om- Parness. She brought 
your dinner." 

" I am very thankful to your parents for the meals they 
send me, and to you for carrying them here," said the stu- 
dent, fixing his eyes on the girl. " The kind young ladies 
of this place are to me as the birds were to Elijah the pro- 
phet. You know how the birds carried meals to that 
prophet when he was in the wilderness f 

" O yes," answered the girl, blushing and looking down 
to the ground ; " I am not as learned as a gentleman, but I 
have read all my mother s books. They say you are a 
great scholar, and a kind man too. I see you are kind, for 
you speak to such a girl as I am ; but you must never tell 
mamma that I spoke to you. She will scold me for that. 
She is always very good, only when I give something away 
6 



90 

or when I speak to strange gentlemen she scolds me. 
Malcah's mother scolds her too for such things. You know 
Malcah ? She is my friend, and we tell one another about 
everything." 

" It is better you do not have any secrets from yom* 
mother, Hannah," said the young man. " She will never 
scold you for doing anything that is right ; and it is very 
WTong to do a thing that displeases your mother. Your 
friend Malcah I do not know." 

" O, you speak like all others. I should like to see how 
you would like it, to be called a foolish girl, and that sort 
of things." 

" My pai-ents used to scold me too, if I did any thing- 
wrong. I knew they were right and never complained 
about it. I tried to avoid any mistake which they pointed 
out to me." 

" Is that the reason why you have become so clever f 
asked the gii*l, looking up inquiringly in Joseph's face. 

"I do not think I am so clever," replied the young man 
smiling. " Your people here are very kind. They con- 
sider me much more than I am worth. I am not better than 
any of my colleagues." 

" You are a very learned man, the Rabbi said so. You 
can talk much nicer than any of the students, and are very 
kindhearted. I shall tell mamma that I spoke to you, since 
you want me to do it. But oh, what a fool . 1 am, speaking to 
you so long and letting youi* soup get cold ! I wish you a very 
good appetite." The girl said all that huniedly and ran 
away before Joseph could say one word more. The young 
man looked after her for some time and then returned to the 



THE METAMORPHOSE. 91 

synagogue. Sometime after dinner he informed the Rabbi 
that he could not read with him the customary lesson in the 
Talmud, as he felt much confused in his thoughts. The 
Rabbi advised him to take a walk in the fresh aii-, which 
he accordingly did. 



III. 



HANNAH AND HER MOTHER. 



Hannah returned home all in a flush. 

" Mamma," said she as soon as she came into the room, 
I saw Rabbi Joseph, and he spoke to me. Oh, how nicely 
he speaks ! And you know, mamma, he does not look to 
the gi'ound and is not as awkward as aU other students of 
the Talmud. He looks right into one's eyes and speaks 
as fluently and easily as papa does when he is speaking to 
you. I was so confused at first, mamma, but I soon be- 
came accustomed to his voice and manners. I could speak 
to him for three days and not feel confused at all." 

" What did he say, my child f asked the good-humored 
matron. 

*' Why, mamma, he said such a lot of things that I could 
not repeat all he said. He spoke something about the 
ravens that carried food to Elijah the prophet. He said 
we were very kind people and he is very thankful to us. 
He told me to obey you in everything. I asked him 
whether he knew Malcah, and he says he does not know 
her. His parents used to scold him very often and they 
were always right, he said. And, oh ! he is so good, mamma» 



92 



the janitor told me how he cured him and gave him a 
pillow and tended to him when he was sick." 

" Well,'" said the mother, " I suppose you made them 
dull with your raillery and told them all kind of nonsense." 

" No, mamma, I only said that he is renowned as a great 
scholar, and he smiled and said that he was no better than 
any of his colleagues. Why did he say so, mamma ? All other 
students like to boast so much. He does not know Malcah, 
either." 

" Why, you little goose, how should he know Malcah 1 
do you tliink that such a man cares to know every foolish 
girl?" 

The conversation was broken up by the entrance of a 
neighbor who had business with the mother. When the 
stranger left the room, Hannah resumed again: "Mamma? 
why did his father scold him? Was he also a foolish girl 
— boy, 1 mean f 

" Who, my child T asked the mother, having forgotten 
all about the previous conversation. 

" Habbi Joseph, I mean," rejoined the girl ; " would you 
also scold him if he were your son? I told him you do 
sometimes, and he said you mean it well with me. He 
told me never to have any secret from you. Why did he 
say so, mamma ?" 

"Oh, I see, you have bothered the poor student with 
all kinds of nonsense. Now, he will consider you the most 
foolish rattle- tat in the world. If you do it again, I will 
>'cold you indeed. Must eveiybody know of your foolish- 
ness?" 

Hannah crimsoned at this rebuke and did not resume 



THE METAMORPHOSE. 93 

the subject of her conversation. Some time aflerwai'd the 
mother noticed that she was crying. She anxiously asked 
Hannah what was the matter. 

'^I shall never speak to him again," answered the girl 
in tears, " if he thinks me a fool. I hate him for it, 
mamma. You know I am. not a fool, only when I speak 
too much. I did not speak much to him." 

" O, you are thinking of Rabbi Joseph 1 Do not woiTy 
yourself, my dear ; he will not consider you a fool this 
time. Clever people do not form an opinion by seeing a 
person once. Don't cry, my child." 

Hannah actually did not speak to the student any more. 
She carried meals for him regularly every Tuesday, handed 
them to the janitor, and did not make a single remark con- 
cerning the young scholar. 

But it happened somehow that she often met him on his 
walks. She would then crimson up to the ears, and run 
away, and meet hun the next time and run away again. Some- 
times also she would take a walk after supper with her 
friend Malcah. They would sit on the steps of the White 
Inn, where they would see Joseph returning home from 
the synagogue. They would then take a walk around the 
building, and peep in the window where the young man 
was sitting at his table with a book. They would make 
a few remarks to one another, and return home. All by 
accident, of course. Their remarks, especially those made 
by Hannah, were of a nature not very complimentary to 
the student. 



94 GERSONl's SKETCITES. 



IV. 



JOSEPH S COURAGE. 

On the post road leading fi-om Wilna, just near the last 
houses of Shu-vint, there are stands of apples and cakes, 
kept by poor Jewish women for the accommodation of 
passengers. Joseph used to pass these stands ev^ery two 
or three days, taking liis walks in that du-ection. 

Upon one occasion, about live weeks after the incidents 
narrated in the last chapter, Joseph passing that road, no- 
ticed one of tlie saleswomen crying bitterly, while her 
stock seemed in the gi'eatest disorder. He approached her 
and asked what was the cause of her giief The woman 
pointed to a group of soldiers sitting in a meadow at 
some distance, and informed the young man that they had 
robbed her of her apples and cakes. 

"Come with me," said the student; "I will speak to 
them in your behalf. 

"What is the use," answered the poor saleswoman^ 
" they have by this time devoured all my goods, and they 
will not pay me for them unless with blows." 

" By heaven !" exclaimed Joseph, " they shall pay you 
for your goods, or I will go to theu' officer. Come along 
and do not be afraid." 

He took the poor woman by the hand, and approaching 
the soldiers, informed them that they had to pay a bill of 
one ruble. The soldiers looked with indignation at the 
bold Jew who dared to addi-ess them so imperatively, and 
said that they would beat him black and blue if he did not 
go his way, and let them alone. 



THE METAMORPHOSE. 95 

"Just let any one of you raise his hand," said Joseph in 
a pure Russian accent, " oi* refuse to pay this woman for 
the apples you robbed her of, and you will find yourself in 
custody this very night. Pay one ruble, or I Avill go to 
your officer." 

A Russian soldier is rude where there is no effective 
opposition to his rudeness, but when he sees that he has 
his. match, especially in a person who speaks his language 
well, he becomes as manageable as a child. 

The soldiers thus noticing the undaunted manner of the 
young man, commenced to apologize ; they did it only for 
a lai'k, and intended to pay thirty kopeeken for the apples 
But he insisted upon the price fixed by himself, and gave 
them to understand the impropriety of their conduct in 
plain terms. They had no alternative but to pay the re- 
quired sum. Their spokesman handing the money to the 
trembling old woman, patted the young man on the shoul- 
der, and called him a inotodetz (brave fellow) thus acknow- 
ledging his superiority and right. 

:Hannah, who haj^pened to witness the scene — accident- 
ally of course — approached the young man. She evidently 
wanted to tell him something ; but she did not utter a word. 
As soon as the young man looked at her she blushed and 
ran away. 

The story became well known in the whole place in less 
than half an hour. The poor woman could not tell enough 
about the bravery of her benefacter ; she had not words 
enough to illustrate how he talked to the rude soldiers in 
the pure Russian language, "just like an ofHcer of the 
army," how she was afraid for his dear person, and trem- 



96 GEKSONl's SKETCHES. 

bled in every limb ; liow the soldiers became scared when 
he commenced to speak ; how he insisted upon getting a 
ruble, " not one kopeek less," for the apples they robbed 
her of, and so forth. 

At last everybody knew th'e story, everybody spoke 
about it ; but Hannah, strange to say, could not compre- 
hend the matter well ; she asked everybody about all par- 
ticulars of the occurrence, and never became tu'ed of hearing 
the same thing over and over again. It seems that all in- 
direct sources were not satisfactory to her ; she addressed 
herself to the woman to whom the occurrence had hap- 
pened. 

"Why, bless your heart," answered the woman, "I 
would swear that I saw you there ail the time." 

Hannah crimsoned and replied : " I passed there and saw 
Rabbi Joseph holding you by the hand, which I thought 
was very improper ; but I did not stop to see what was 
going on." 

The poor woman satisfied her curiosity, and narrated to 
her all that had passed, with as many exaggerations as her 
imagination could produce. 

The next day was Tuesday, and Hannah carried dinner 
for the young scholar as usual. Xot finding the janitor at 
his post in the vestry, she was obliged to call for Joseph. 
The student came out, (girls are not allowed to enter a 
synagogue unless on some special occasion), and taking the 
meal from Hannah, he addressed her : 

" Are you afraid of me, Hannah ? You always run away 
when you see me, and yesterday you came near me as 
though you wanted to tell me something ; but you ran 



THE METAMORPHOSE. 9T 

away before I could speak one word to you. If I have 
done anything to displease you, you had better tell me at 
once, and give me an opportunity to justify myself. 1 
am a stranger here, you know, and it is ungenerous to 
treat me in such a distant manner." 

" I was. afraid," said the girl, in her hurried way, " that 
the soldiers would beat you yesterday — very much afraid 
ioideed. Mamma says that you consider me a foolish girh 
because I make you dull with my raillery. I see you are 
always going to the post-station, and sometimes you receive 
there parcels of books. You are the first Talmud student 
I ever saw who could speak the Russian tongue so well. I 
do not think it right that such a scholar as you are should 
learn unhallowed languages. I saw you hold oldBeilahby 
the hand \ I don't think that was right either. Mamma 
says that I dare not speak to strange gentlemen, for I am 
engaged to be married to Nahum. He is not as learned as 
you are, nor is he as kind as you are ; we have been engaged 
two years. I have seen him but twice dm*ing that time, and 
mamma says I must like him as he is. Please don't think 
me ungenerous. Rabbi Joseph." 

She said all this in a hurry and confusion. The young 
man listened to her with a wry face. 

" It seems that you are watching all my movements, 
Hannah. I would be very sorry if you did so with any 
malicious intention. Did you tell anybody that you saw 
me carrying books from the post-station f 

" No," said the girl, looking right up into his face. " I 
did not even tell my friend Malcah about it. I am afraid 
to speak about you. I was so angry when mamma told me 
6* 



98 

that you consider me a foolish girl. Do you actually think 
80 of me f 

" No, Hannah," replied the young man, with a tremb- 
ling voice, " your mother was mistaken this time ; I wish 
there were no greater or worse fools in the world. I have 
the best opinion of you." 

" Oh, and I am thinking the world of you, too. I am 
only afraid to say so to any body else. I am so glad that 
mamma was mistaken concerning your opinion about me. 
I am not ungenerous either. Good bye, now. Don't say 
to anybody what I told you. Mamma will be waiting for 
me. Goodbye." And off she went. 



THE DENUNCIATION. 

At the unusual hour of ten o'clock in the night, about 
three weeks after the narrated occurences had transpired, 
the Shirvintian Synagogue was the theatre of a very lively 
scene. The Rabbi was in his seat near the ark wherein 
the scrolls of the Law were kept, and six or seven of the 
most prominent members of the community were sitting 
around him. There were no candles burning in the brass 
chandeliers suspended on the ceiling, but only on the book- 
stands before the assembly a few burning tallow candles 
were melted, the smothei-ing, flickering, smoky light of 
w^hich indicated that there was some affair of importance 
and privacy going on. Two students of the Talmud, evi- 



THE METAMORPHOSE. 99' 

dently in a very nervous state of mind, were standing before 
the assembly. The Rabbi opened proceedings with the 
following remarks, and addressed to the gentlemen sitting 
near him : 

" I have invited you here in order that you shall hear 
what these two men (pointing at the students,) have to re- 
port about Rabbi Joseph. For reasons which I will tell, 
you another time, I will not and cannot act in the matter 
alone, I must have the approval and cooperation of the 
' seven best men of the community.' " 

He then ordered the students to tell their story. The 
following statements Avere made by one student in a veiy 
nervous manner and incoherent terms, and they were con- 
firmed by the other, who was almost in a spasmodic state 
of mind. 

The speaker once overheard a conversation between 
Joseph and Hannah. The " righteous " daughter of Parness 
(that gentleman was one of the jury,) reproached the stu- 
dent for his doubtful conduct. She saw him carrying books 
of unhallowed contents from the post-station, and also hold- 
ing a strange woman by the hand. Joseph begged her not 
to betray him, and she consented to keep the secret on con- 
dition that he promised not to do it any more. He who 
overheard this interview confided the secret to his colleague, 
the second witness, and they resolved to watch Rabbi 
Joseph's movements. They observed that he had the habit 
of going out in the field almost every afternoon. He always 
had some books or papers with him on such expeditions,, 
and he laid down in a bush reading those books, looking 
in some curious designs and making notes with a pencil in 



100 GERSONl's SKBJTCHES. 

a small book which he carried in his pockets and sometimes 
on loose paper. 

Once he lost one of his papers, which they picked up 
and presented to the jury. Once during the period of 
their observations they saw him' entering the post station? 
shaking hands with an officer there, who handed him a 
small parcel with red seals. He opened the parcel in a 
bush, and finding there two books, he put them in his 
pockets and went home. 

The witnesses were rigidly examined and cross-examined 
by the jurors, and were dismissed. The piece of paper 
which had been produced was unfolded by the Rabbi 
with a very grave air; but he lost all presence of mind when 
his eyes fell on the contents of the fatal document. He 
suddenly jumped up from his seat and overthrew two book- 
stands that stood near him with a crash. "Alas !" exclaimed 
he, "that my eyes should behold such iniquity!" The 
jurors looked at each other with frightened countenances. 
"See," continued the Rabbi, his eyes riveted on the scrap of 
paper, " and, behold, these mysterious signs and figures ! 
These are letters, I suppose, of unhallowed languages, inter- 
mixed with signs of every descrij^tion. Alas ! there ai'e 
true crosses among them, all in regular series by each fig- 
ure. It is the language of the evil one 1" 'His exclamations 
continued to that effect, and he handed the paper to one of 
the gentlemen. 

One of the jurors suggested that there niay be no cause 
of alarm after all. The paper may have been found by 
Rabbi Joseph and dropped by him on purpose. It was not 
his wi'iting perhaps. This suggestion calmed the learned 



THE METAMORPHOSE. 101 

man a little. He sat down saying, " I would to God that 
the case were so." But one of the jurors discovered on one 
end of the paper just by a series of signs and figures a verse 
written in pure Hebrew, to the following effect : 

How magnificent and awful the ladder 
That leads from earth unto heaven : 
Ev'ry phenomenon of nature 
Forms a step of this ladder : 
Nature, the revelations of Jehovah, 
Testifies to His omnipotence. 
How magnificent and awful the ladder 
That our forefather saw in his dream. 

The writing was Joseph's, the Rabbi knew it. The contents 
were, as everybody could see, of a very profane nature, ex- 
plaining the holy and mysterious vision of Jacob as a 
contemplation on nature, and the last as the revelation of the 
Holy Name ! These showed that the piece of paper did 
originally belong to Joseph and all the signs were written by 
him. The Rabbi bewailed the young scholar as a soul 
that was caught in the snares of the Evil-one. As a fallen 
star. Some suggestions ot a milder nature were made. It 
was resolved at last that the student should be called upon 
to justify himself if he could. All present should assemble 
in the house of the Parness next evening, to hear the 
explanations of the offender. Till then nothing should 
transpii'e, the whole scheme should be kept in strict privacy. 
The Rabbi should come to the house of the Parness, and 
together with that gentleman examine Hannah about 
what she saw of the offender. Joseph should then be noti- 
fied to bring his books to^the house of the Pai-ness and to 



102 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

be prepared to give an account of his proceedings. The 
meeting adjourned after reading some psalms and reciting 
some prayer from an especial prayer book. 



VI. 

THE RENDEZVOUS. 

On the next day Joseph found between the slices of bread 
which were sent to him for dinner a note to the following 
eft'ect : 

" There is something going on about you which makes 
me so afraid concerning your security. Come this afternoon 
to the bush on the right side of the large stone behind the 
post-office. I shall come there and tell you all I know. O, 
I am so anxious ! Do not fail to come. 

Hannah." 

This note confused and frightened the young scholai'. 
What in the world could have happened that this unartful 
.child should be so "anxious concerning his security?" 
There must be something very serious that induced the gu*l 
to take such a step as this, appointing him a rendezvous in 
the bush. That day was a Wednesday ; his dinner came 
not from the Parness, how then could Hannah slip in the 
note between the slices of bread ? Then it occurred to him 
that the whole affair may be not so serious at all. Hannah's 
fancy constructed a straw into an avalanche threatening to 
fall on him, for she is a mere child. At any rate it betrays 
.a deep feeling in the girl for him. He loved her since he 



\ 



THE METAMOKPHOSK. 103 

saw her the first time ; now, there is no doubt that she loves 
him too. Should he trust himself to such a secret interview 
with her, knomng that she is betrothed to another ? Would 
he be able to control his feelings in her presence while he 
is with her alone. But then was it not his duty to reassure 
the pool- girl who is so anxious about him ? In this strain 
his thoughts were wandering the whole time till uncon- 
sciously he found himself walking in the du*ection of the 
appointed place. 

Having anived at the indicated bush, and not seeing any- 
body there he stretched himself under a tree, and taking 
out a small Bible which he always carried in his pocket, he 
-opened it at random, and commenced reading. The first 
passage which occured to him was Cant, viii, 6 : " Place me 
as a seal upon thy heart, place me as a seal upon thy arm. 
Truly love is as violent as death (jealousy is as cruel as the 
grave) ; her sparks are the sparks of fire, of a godlike flame." 
It is a noble passage. No translation can do it justice. A 
thousand of the ablest and most exciting love-stories can 
not express as much as these few words. But my hero 
read it in the original, and understood it well ; perhaps bet- 
ter than most men do, for his mind was just suited for such 
a subject. 

He did not read in the Bible any further. He was an- 
alyzing in his mind the ideas of the one passage he read while 
his eyes wandered on the road w^here he expected Hannah 
to come. A touch on the shoulder awakened him from his 
revery. He turned round, and saw Hannah standing with 
a branch in her hand. He jumped up as quick as light- 
ning and stared at the girl with sparkling eyes. 



104 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

"Please do not look at me like that, Rabbi Joseph," said 
the gu'l, in her innocent way, "I am so afraid when you 
look at me so, though I know that you are a good man. I 
could not say half of what I have to tell you, if you con- 
tinue looking like that. I feel so confused." 

"Do not be confused, Hannah," rejoined the student, feel- 
ing ashamed of his weakness, " I will not look at you if 
you do not like it. I was astonished to see you on this side,, 
for I expected you to come on the road from the other side. 
What were you going to tell me f 

" 1 came by the path behind the post station in order that 
nobody should notice me. I am standing here these ten 
minutes. I thought you were asleep and was afraid to wake 
you. I made a noise with the branches, and then I broke 
this branch, but you did not hear it. I then touched your 
shoulder with the branch, for I have something very im- 
portant to tell you. Excuse me for interrupting your sleep, 
and, please, do not think me ungenerous." 

" No, Hannah, I do not think you ungenerous. On the 
contraiy, I think you are the best girl living. But never 
mind what I think," he added, with an effort to control his 
feelings, "what important thing had you to tell me?" 

" The Rabbi was at our house this morning, and spoke 
to me about all sorts of things. He asked me whether I 
saw you holding a woman by the hand, and I told him how 
I saw you taking old Beilah by the hand and leading her to 
the soldiers on that Monday you know. He smiled and 
said that was nothing, his doubts on that point were dis - 
sipated. I wonder what were his doubts concerriing you 1 
Then he asked rae how you spoke the Russian language, 



THE METAMORPHOSE. 105 

and what kind of books I saw you caiTying from the post 
station. I wonder how he knows about the books. I did 
not tell anybody about it ; not even to my friend Malcah, 
upon my word. Well, I said that you spoke the Russian 
language very pure. I could not say a falsehood to the 
Rabbi, you know. About the books I did not know how 
the letters looked, for I never saw them open. lie told 
me then not to speak to anybody about it, and made such 
a gi-ave face ! I thought I must warn you, for I felt very 
anxious about you, though I think that they cannot do you 
any harm. I went to Pessah, who is always sending you 
meals on Wednesday, and said I would cut the bread for 
your dinner. I always go to those who send you meals, 
and cut your bread or prepare your soup. It affords me a 
kind of pleasure to prepare what you are going to eat. I 
then^slipped my note between the slices of bread. I am 
glad you found it and came here. If I were you, I would 
go home and burn all the books, unless they were of holy 
contents. But you must know better what to do. I am 
such a foolish girl sometimes, and you are such a clever 
man ! I did not tell anybody about the Rabbi's visit to 
our house. Nor did I say that I was going here. Please, 
don't you tell anybody either ; mamma would scold me very 
much. She would say perhaps it was foolish or naughty 
for me to come here, but I could not help it. I thought 
it would be for your benefit. Good by." 

She said all that almost in one breath as if anxious to 
rid her conscience of a heavy load, and as soon as she fin- 
ished she* ran off like a deer. 

The young man stood there for a few minutes as though 
7 



106 

riveted to the gi'ound. He looked at the light disappearing 
figui-e, while the sound of her innocent prattle lingered in 
his ear. He did not think of the " important " things 
which she reported. His thoughts were fixed on the few 
unimportant sentences she had uttered. They contained a 
formidable declaration of love in the most innocent manner. 
The girl herself evidently did not understand what they 
were. 

Joseph was spell-bound and could not utter a word 
while she spoke. The whole interview seemed to hirii like 
a dream. At last he directed his steps mechanically to- 
ward the synagogue, and arrived there just in time for the 
afternoon service. His mind was wandering during the 
whole evening on the subject of Hannah's love. 



VII. 

Joseph's room. 

After the evening prayer the Rabbi called Joseph and 
informed him that he would go to see his room. The stu- 
dent did not quite understand the importance or the strange- 
ness of such a desire ; his mind was employed with some- 
thing else. He silently complied with the request of his 
superior, and dreamingly accompanied the Rabbi on the 
way toward the White Inn. He did not even notice that 
the other two students and the janitor followed them. The 
Rabbi made a few indifferent remarks on the road, to which 
Joseph answered in an abstracted manner. 



THE METAMORPHOSE. lOT 

When they arrived at the room, and the Rabbi ordered 
the three persons who followed them to come in, Joseph's 
reveries were dispelled. He understood all at once what this 
visit meant. All that he had heard from Hannah about 
the investigation, the Rabbi had made that morning sud- 
denly occurred to his mind, and he understood that his posi- 
tion was a critical one. 

He was almost overwhelmed by this new thought. 
There was public disgrace, perhaps anathema, threatening 
him ; he was warned in time and did not take any notice of 
the wai'ning. On the verge of the abyss he was hunting 
a shadow all the time. At the present moment he formed 
a resolution. 

" My time has come, as if ordained in Providence. I 
must take a decided course now. Happen what may I will 
maintain my object and make an end to all hypocrisy." 

Thus the young man mused to himself while the Rabbi 
sitting in his chak examined the room, and the other three 
persons stood reverently at the door. 

" You are pleasantly located here," the Rabbi commenced. 
" No talmudical student has it so good as you. The Sher- 
vint community is treating you in the most generous way." 

Joseph understood that the last words were intended for 
a hint that he lived on the charity of the community, he 
therefore replied : 

" You know well that I did not want to have anything 
from your community. The charity was forced upon me 
by yourself I wanted to pay my board, but you insisted 
on my being maintained by the congregation. My rent I 



108 

pay and have a right to keep a room according to my owd 
taste." 

" You seem willing to be independent. I did not under- 
stand it before," rejoined the old man. " Why did you not 
tell me so in plain terms 1 But that is not to the purpose. 
I wanted to see your quarters and ask you what you are 
doing with yourself all the time you are away from the 
synagogue 1 Have you any books to study here 1 I see 
you have some wi'iting materials on the table." 

By this time Joseph had recovered all his self-posession> 
He decided t<^ act resolutely and openly. 

"Yes, Rabbi, I have here plenty of books and writing 
materials. My books are of a kind that I cannot obtain 
in the synagogue, and I am studying them while I am 
in my private quarters. Would you like to see some of 
them. You will be quite astonished. Rabbi." 

There were no books needed to astonish the pious gentle- 
man ; the last words of the young scholar were sufficient for 
that purpose. Joseph's deportment in meekly following 
him to that room, and the answers to what the Rabbi said 
till now betokened a quiet submission. The Rabbi ex- 
pected to find an humble penitent in the young man and 
was rejoicing to think of the great success he had in sav- 
ing the youna: man's soul from the clutches of the Evil one> 
Now the last remarks of the student had quite a different 
issue. The Rabbi did not know what to make of them. 
Was it bold defiance or unsuspecting innocence, in the 
young man ? He reflected for a while ; then he said: 

" Yes, Rabbi Joseph, I should like to see these curious 
books." 



THE METAMORPHOSE. 109 

The young man di-ew a Dox from under his bed, unlock- 
ed it very coolly and took out of it a large book. He de- 
posited it on the table and opened it. If an electric shock 
had gone through the old man's frame he could not have 
been startled more than at the sight of the opened book. 
It contained nothing but shapely designs in all kinds of 
colors. He exclamined, '• Sh'ma Israel !" and turned off his 
eyes. Joseph proceeded unconcernedly to take out one book 
after another and to open them before the Rabbi. Nearly 
all his books were in unhallowed languages ; some of them 
were full of little signs and crosses, others of circles and 
angles, and others still were full of sketches of buttles and 
other instruments, or animals, leaves, bu'ds, tfcc, of 
vai'ious shapes. It was a fearful sight to see all those sacri- 
legious things. The Rabbi could not bear it any longer. 

" Do you want to conjure up the E^dl One here f 

" No, Rabbi, I could not do it, even if I would !" was the 
cool reply. 

The old man did not waste any more words. He ordered 
Joseph to follow him to the Pamess, and the two students 
with the janitor he ordered to take all the books to the 
same house. 



VIII. 

THE TRIAL. 



The house of the Parness was prepared to receive our 
party. The same gentlemen who acted as jurors at the 
denouncing were seated round a large table of a primitive 



110 GERSONI^S SKETCHES. 

fashion and the chair was vacant awaiting the Rabbi to 
occupy it. Hannah with her mother was sitting in a remote 
corner of the room reverently, perhaps anxiously, listening 
to the conversation of the gentlemen. The subject of that 
conversation was Joseph. Some were of the opinion that 
in case the student proves guilty of studying unhallowed 
language no quarter should be given to him. He should 
be treated with the utmost rigor of the Jewish law and 
custom, because he being such a profound scholar, knew 
well how unlawful it is to do such things. Others thought 
that if he i-epents his action and allows his books to be 
burned, and gives up his private quarters and goes to reside 
in the Synagoge as all other students do, a hard penitence 
should be laid upon him, as receiving Malkoth (39 strokes) 
in public, or several days in fasting ; but then all shall be 
forgiven him for the sake of his learning. Hannah's face 
changed according to the opinions she heard. She cried 
bitterly. 

The party arrived in the house. All arose from their 
seats when the Rabbi stepped into the room. Joseph came 
in after him and then came their followers who carried the 
fatal books. The old gentleman dropped in his seat 
almost trembling with agitation. Joseph made a bow to all 
present, very calmly looked around for a bench and sat 
down as soon as he found one without the slightest agita- 
tion. The other persons remained standing at the door 
dropping their parcels on the floor. Hannah left off crying 
as soon as she noticed the calm bearing of the student. As 
soon as the meeting came to order the Rabbi commenced 
to speak. 



THE METAMOKPH08E. 



Ill 



" It is written in our holy Law : You shall be guiltless 
before the Lord and before Israel. I have to make a few 
statements concerning Rabbi Joseph (I am really sorry to 
mention his name with the honors of a teacher in Israel, 
but I have to do it, for as yet he is Rabbi,) in order to 
appear guiltless before you. When this young scholar ar- 
rived here I treated him with the greatest partiality, and 
imposed upon you to do the same. Till now you have obeyed 
me, but now I must tell you my reasons for acting as I did in 
or^er that you should not consider me guilty of leading 
you astray. 

" This young scholar is an ordained Rabbi for more 
than a year. He obtained this title from five of the great- 
est Rabbis of this country, and this title was confirmed by 
many other prominent Rabbis, in the number of which are 
two of his own brothers of great renown. He is practically 
of the same authority as myself ; that is the reason why I 
could not undertake to act against him on my own respon- 
sibility and invited you to participate in the matter. He 
is the son of a very influential and pious family, and was 
brought up in the best manner ; these were my reasons for 
allowing him to live more comfortably than any other stu- 
dent — he is not used to the hardships of poverty. His 
parents sent him away from home because they did not 
know what to make of him. He did not want to marry 
notwithstanding the most alluring oflers that were made to 
him. Nor did he want to accept any position in a congre- 
gation as his elder brothers did as soon as they were or- 
dained. His parents thought that he would change his 
mind when he had once been away from home and learned 
more of the world. 



112 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

" They sent him here and wrote to me that they wanted 
to pay his board, but I thought that it would be an honor 
for om* community to do something for a young man of 
his merits. He urgently requested me not to make known 
anything of his merits or of his great family connections, 
in order that he should not be treated with too much pre- 
dilection. He even wanted me to forget his title, and con- 
sider him like any unordained student. I did not concede 
to the last, though I consented to the first. Now, alas ! I 
have discovered the reason of his conduct. It is not hj^m- 
bleness of spirit that prompted him to be so quiet and so 
good. It is because he did not w^ant to be looked after too 
much in order that he should have his own way. This is, 
perhaps, the reason why he did not want to many or 
accept a public position. He gave himself up to the influ- 
ence of the Evil-one. You have lieard, gentlemen, the 
accusations which were brought against him. It is aU 
true. Alas ! my own eyes have seen the unhallowed books 
and mystic images in which he is meditating. I ordered 
them to be brought here that you might see them also. I 
intend to write to all the rabbis to whom he is known in 
order that his title may be withdrawn. I will write also 
to his parents, though I am very sorry to announce such 
afflicting news. Till this is done and till my letters will 
be answered, you must decide w^hat we shall do to him and 
how we shall ti-eat him here. A rabbi he is until that time, 
and his family has to be respected, but even the office of 
high priest is not to be considered in a case so clearly 
against our religious principles. 



THE METAMORPHOSE. 113 

IX. 

THE TRIAL. CO^^TINUED. 

The Rabbi finished his speech, and there was a low 
murmur among the jurors when Joseph arose cabnly and 
begged to say a few words. 

" I am sorry," said he, " that your Rabbi here takes so 
to heart a thing which is not quite as alarming as you im- 
agine. I have nothing to do with the Evil-one, I believe 
and serve the God of our forefathers. The books which 
you see are nothing but scientific manuals. There are 
geographies, mathematical books, natural sciences, history, 
etc. All the prominent Rabbis of olden times studied the 
same science in the languages of their time. I study them 
in the languages of modern times and do not intend to give 
up these studies. Since the Rabbi here chooses to make 
such an alarm about my doing so, I must tell you that 
neither you nor anybody can interfere with me. I intend 
to retm*n home next week. I have wi'itten to my parents 
about it. Now I suppose that I will have to go somewhere 
else, for I will not be able to witness the grief of my 
parents, nor can I give up the object I have in view." 

" Do you mean to tell me that these abominable figures 
are the sciences which our Rabbis of olden times wasted 
then* time upon"?" said the Rabbi opening an atlas, and 
pointing at the maps. 

" Yes," said the young man, and explained what the 
maps were. 

" But this^paper, with actual crosses on it, wi-itten in 
7* 



114 



your own hand," continued the old man, " is that science 
also r 

" Certaiuly," was the reply. " It contains some mathe- 
matical problems which I was trying to solve. The crosses 
ai-e no more than marks of addition. The problems are 
fortunately of such a nature that you will understand them 
if I explain it to you in Hebrew. I am only a beginner in 
this line." Here he took a piece of paper and explained to 
the Rabbi one of the problems, substituting Hebrew instead 
of the Latin characters. In this way he explained to them 
the meaning of all his books, and all present were astonished 
at the vast knowledge of the young scholar. The Rabbi 
relented and said : 

" Well, Rabbi Joseph, if you learn these things for the 
glory of God, and for the purpose of ' knowing how to an- 
swer to a renegade ' when you once occupy the position 
of a teacher in Israel, I have nothing against it, though I 
would rather see you employ your brilliant talents exclu- 
sively in the study of God's word." 

" I will not deceive you," rejoined the student; "but ray 
object is to become a useful member of society, which I can 
not be if I devote all my time to the study of rabbinical 
knowledge. Since seven years I have occupied myself 
with the study of practical sciences, and my object is to go 
through a course of study — probably technology — at the 
University of St. Petersburg. Till now I have worked along 
secretly to this end because I did not want to grieve my 
parents by telling them the object I have in view. I do 
not intend to be a Rabbi, but I stood the rabbinical exam- 
ination in order to give my parents pleas^je. Now, aa 



THE METAMOKPHOSE. 115 

my secret has become known, I will try to avoid as much 
trouble as I can. Your actions have only hastened the time 
of my doing so." 

All present changed color at this declaration. They 
tried to pursuade Joseph to give up his perilous object. 
They begged his pardon for their hasty actions against him. 

The Rabbi almost cried with grief " to see such a worthy 
vessel of the holy law profaned " by such impious designs. 
But it was of no avail. The young man departed that very 
night from Shirvint. 

Hannah, who witnessed the scene of the trial and the 
issue of it, complained of a severe headache the moment 
all the strangers left their house. Her feelings and excite- 
ment were too strong not to leave their mark on the poor 
girl. Having heard the deliberations concerning the young 
man before he came, she was in a state of great anxiety. 
She was proud of his calm and gentlemanly manner during 
the trial. She was sorry when she heard his firm resolu- 
tions to take such a course of action, and that he would 
leave them soon. It occurred to her how far away and un- 
attainable the object of her affection Would be. Hannah 
fell sick with a strong fever the next day, and when she re- 
covered she was no more as rosy and as lively as before. 



116 OERSONl's SKETCHES. 

X. 

FIVE YEARS LATER. 

On an afternoon in the Spring of 1861, when the Shir- 
vintian synagogue was well filled with those who assembled 
there for the afternoon and evening services, three army 
officers unexpectedly entered that place of worship. All 
eyes turned to look at the strange visitors. Their manners 
were not as lively and bustling as are generally the manners 
of Russian army officers. They evinced due respect to the 
house of God. One of the officers asked for the janitor, 
and told him to ask the Rabbi whether he would be allowed 
to read the prayers and say Kaddish, (mourners prayer,) 
for he was a mourner. The Rabbi was astonished to see 
Israelites of such dignity. He only asked whether these 
men ever denied the God of their fathers, and having re- 
ceived an answer that they did not, he accorded the de- 
sked permission. 

The officer stepped before the Header's desk and read 
the prayers fluently and correctly, which indicated that he 
was in the habit of saying his prayers. 
• As soon as he commenced to recite the Litany (Sh'monah 
Esreh) aloud, there occmTed a disturbance in the part of 
the house occupied by the females. Hannah, the daughter 
•of the late Parness, shrieked and fainted away. But this 
disturbance did not afiect the order of the service. The 
girl was taken home by some of the women, and the thing 
was quite unknown in the gentlemen's department. 

After -service the officer stepped up to the Rabbi, and 
thanking him for the permission he accorded, he asked : 



THE METAMORPHOSE. 117 

" Do you not know me, Rabbi f 

" I have perhaps seen you somewhere ; your voice is quite 
familiar to me ; but I cannot recollect who you are." 

" I am Joseph, now Dr. Duboff, who studied under your 
guidance for several months four years ago." 

" Rabbi Joseph !" exclaimed the old man amazed. 

"Yes, Rabbi, the very same," answered the young doctor. 

By this time there was quite a crowd around them. 
There were some men who recognized the young man, and 
gi'eeted him cordially. The young officer introduced his 
two colleagues, Jewish young men, who,, like himself, had 
accomplished their course of studies and were appointed 
as physicians in some military hospitals around Vilna. He 
persuaded them to stop with him for a few days in Shirvint,^ 
as he was anxious to see his old friend. 

They all repaired to the house of the Rabbi after the 
evening service, where the young man was asked by the 
host to tell his story. 

" It is a veiy short story," said he. " When I left this 
place I went to St. Petersburg with the intention of studying 
technology ; but I soon found out that medicine would be 
more practicable for me, and I entered a medical college. 
My parents were angry with my desire to study modern 
science, and did not want to help me along. I found it very 
hard to make a living and study at the same time ; but I 
soon became acquainted with an influential officer, and 
through his influence the government accorded me the 
rights of a "government student;" that is, it sustained me 
all the time during my studies, on the condition that I 
seiwe as military physician three years on half salary, and 



118 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

attend two days a week in the military hospital during the 
time of my study. I had now nothing to care for but my 
books, and applied myself to them with all energy. Thus 
I have finished my course now, and through the influence 
of the same friend I obtained a very lucrative position in a 
military hospital in Vilna, That is the reason why you 
see me in such a uniform, for I serve the government, and 
have the title and rights of a captain of the army. My 
parents, in the meantime, having heard that I did not 
depart from the ways and customs of my people, and that 
I had the good fortune of doing good to some Jewish 
soldiers who were under my influence, had become recon- 
ciled to me. But to my great grief, I lost my good mother 
six months ago. I intend to remain here a day or two, and 
then go to my place of destination." 

The young man asked about his friends, and especially 
about the Parness and his family, and was informed that 
the old Parness died in reduced circumstances, in conse- 
quence of which Hannah's engagement was broken ofi, and 
she is unmarried yet, living with her mother in great pov- 
erty. 

He was sony that the gu'l lost her father, but not for 
the rest. 



I do not undertake to depict the scenes that transph-ed 
between the young militaiy dignitary and Hannah. There 
were tears of grief and rejoicing — declarations of love to 
his person, and dissatisfaction with his attire, which wai 
so very un-Jewish. 



THE METAMORPHOSE. 119 

After a gi'eat deal of persuasion, in which the Rabbi, let 
it be said to his justice, took an active part, Hannah's 
mother gave her consent to the maiTaige of her daughter 
with Rabbi Joseph. The ceremony was performed by the 
Rabbi himself, who, dictating the certificate of marriage, 
did not omit the title of Rabbi before the name of Dr. 
Duboff, which was an unmistakable evidence that he re- 
garded the young man worthy of the dignity. 




RABBI ELCHINAN, 

A LEGEND OF MATE XCE. 




RABBI SIMEOX, THE GREAT. 

X one summer afternoon, Rabbi ,Simeon, the 
chief Rabbi of Mayence, was sitting in his study 
in deep meditation. There were several large 
volumes of Talmudical lore lying scattered on 
his table, just as they were left by his discij^les who 
studied under his guidance a few hours previously. But 
the Rabbi did not mind these books at that moment. 
He was under the influence of a holy inspiration. His 
head reclined on one hand, the other hand rested on a 
parchment which was spread before him, while his lips 
whispered slowly some words. Suddenly a bright glance 
flashed in his eyes; he took a pen and wi'ote down two or 
three verses on the parchment. It was a sentiment of his 
heart which the Rabbi expressed in a manner as skillful as 
his bright and lofty mind could invent. Thus the fin- 
8 



122 GEKSONl's SKETCHES. 

ishing touch was given to the grand opening-hymn for 
the prayers of New-Year's day, which our people still re- 
peat every year with devout hearts. In that hymn the 
Eternal is magnified as King and Ruler of the universe, 
before whose sight nothing is concealed, and the glory of 
whom is to be proclaimed with the voice of the Shophar. 
The style of that hymn flows easily and magnificently, as 
the worthy garb of the sentiments it expresses. The sen- 
tences are beautifully joined with one another, and the 
rhymes are of the most melodious nature. Acrostics of the 
Alphabet and of the anther's name are artistically woven 
in at the beginning of each verse, without impeding the 
easy flow of style or obscuring the lofty ideas which the 
hymn contains. 

Rabbi Simeon was now reviewing the whole poem with 
just satisfaction, when the door opened and a child of re- 
markable beauty stole in unperceived. It was the youngest 
son of the Rabbi, a boy four years old. He crept behind 
his father's chair and looked into the manuscript which 
the latter had before him. 

" Father, dear farther," the child suddenly exclaimed, 
" you "wrote down my name on that jmrchment ; did you 
not ? There right in the begining : ' J^l chanan nach- 
latho henoatn lehashpar^ " he read with remarkable fluency. 

The Rabbi took the boy on his knees, and kissing his 
glowing cheeks said : "Yes, my Elchanan, I have put 
thy name also in that poem. When our brethren will 
stand in holy worship before the Lord on the New- Year's 
day, and utter their sentiments in the words of this hymn, 
thy name shall be remembered with mine. But dost thou 



RABBI ELCHANAN. 123 

understand the meaning of the sentence which thou haat 
read over so beautifully V 

"t know the meaning of the first few words: 'God 
graced his inheritance with sweetness,' but I do not know 
what the word ' lehashpar' means." 

" It means ' to embellish,' my child. The sentence ex- 
presses the idea that God has graced the people of Israel 
with his holy injunctions and thereby embellished them 
with sweetness of disposition and virtue. Israel has been 
the chosen people to which the knowledge of the Eternal 
was vouchsafed first, and is therefore called the inheritance 
of God. By observing the injunctions of the holy law we 
become graceful and agreeable in the sight of God and 
men. Remember this, my child, whenever you hear your 
name mentioned." 

The boy took the parchment and read over several times 
the opening sentence, while the pious Rabbi regarded him 
with joy and pride. He then returned the manuscript 
saying : 

" Now, father, I know this sentence by heart. I know 
the meaning of it too, as you have explained it to me, and 
I will never forget it : ' El chanan naehlatho benoam /e- 
hashpar.'^' 

The happy parent embraced his hopeful offspring with 
emotion. 



124 



II. 

klchanan's illness. 

A FEW weeks after these occurences, deep grief prevailed 
in the house of Rabbi Simeon. Elchanan became very ill ; 
the life of that bright and hopgful child was in great danger. 
The Rabbi and his wife were sitting at the sick-bed 
soiTowfull-y watching then- beloved child, and Margaret, his 
nurse, was busying herself with preparing and handing the 
cooling beverage which Rabbi Nathan the physician pre- 
scribed for the invalid. It was a heartrending sight to 
view the little sufferer laboring under the strong fever that 
befel him. He restlessly moved about in his bed with 
burning face and forehead. He called in delirious fancy 
for his parents, talked to his brothers and playmates, and 
repeated whatever sentence or prayer he had learned by 
heart. He would call in the most plaintive terms for his 
nurse ; but when she approached him he would push her 
away violently screaming. He would then fall back ex- 
hausted crying : " El cahnan nacldatho henoam lehash. 
par." Rabbi Nathan, the physician once entered the room 
just when the child made such an exclamation. He was 
astonished to hear such expressive words from the lips of 
the delirious child, and looked inquiringly at Rabbi Simeon. 
" It is a verse of a poem which I have composed for the 
New-Year's day," answered the father to the inquiring 
glance of the physician. " The boy came into my study and 
found the manuscript on the table He rejoiced to see Ms 



EABBI ELCHANAN. 125 

name at the beginning of that poem. I explained him the 
imeaning of the sentence and he learned it by heart." 

" I told you oftentimes, Rabbi" rejoined the physician, 
*' that you exert too much the brains of that child. Children 
of his age should have no mental exertion whatever, until • 
then- physical strength is sufficiently developed. Your boy 
is very ill," he continued, shaking his head as he examined 
the invalid, " and he must be watched with the greatest care. 
He has a strong fever the crisis of which is not to be ex- 
pected before the ninth day from this date. The sickness 
will be on the increase all the time. But I would not ad- 
vise you all three to watch him together. Your own health 
may be afiected by overwork." 

" The Rabbi need not watch here at all," said the worthy 
housewife. '' His health is altogether taxed too much 
without that by constant studying, writing and teaching. 
I and Margaret can change off with one another at the sick- 
bed, and the Rabbi should retire to rest himself" 

The advice of the physician was followed. Rabbi 
Simeon retired to bis apartment agreeable to the deske of 
his wife, and thfe latter changed off with Margaret at the 
bed-side of the sick child. One evening, when the mother 
was persuaded by the urgent request of the faithful nurse 
to retu'e for a few hours' rest, the girl was left alone by 
the invalid. Elchanan fell into a restless sleep and his nurse 
watching him sunk in a revery. Her thoughts ran to the 
following effect : 

"Poor, dear child! You are so young, and unmerciful 
death is already claiming your dear life. There is not 
even the hope of heavenly bliss for yom- soul, for you are 



126 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

of the accursed Jewish race that crucified God! You are 
so beautiful and so bright, and I love you so affectionately I 
Oh, if I could only save you, my dear, dear nursling, what 
would I not give for such a happiness !" 

The poor girl commenced sobbing so loud that the sick 
child awoke and commenced to rage in a fearful deluium. 
In vain did the girl endeavor by various means to calm 
him. The more she tried to sooth him and call him 
endearing names, the more violent did he become ; until 
Rabbi Simeon heard the noise in his study and came into 
the sick-room. No sooner had the unfortunate father 
entered the room, than the boy exclaimed : " JBl chanan 
naclilatlio benoani leha8h})ar^' and became quite calm. 
Rabbi Simeon bowed over the bed in fervent prayer, his 
tears were falling on his prostrate child. He stayed at the 
bedside till his wife came and took his place. Elchanan 
enjoyed a refreshing sleep all the rest of the night. On 
the following morning the physician found him much bet- 
ter than on the day before, and encouraged the sorrow- 
stricken parents to hope for a good termination of the sick- 
ness. 



III. 

THE rabbi's dream. 



It was a Sunday morning. A pious multitude poured 
forth from the " Liebfrauen" church. Only a few devout 
souls remained inside the sacred walls to allay their sor 
rows by confession. Margaret was among the latter. 



KABBI ELCHANAN. 127 

Her confessor was Father Thomas, before whom she con- 
fessed her sinful attachment to her nm'sling, and how she 
felt sorry for his poor little soul whi(.'h was destined for 
hell, since the child was of Jewish extraction. It must 
have been a wonderful balm which the pious Father oflfered 
to the heart of the devout girl, for when she left the con- 
fessional there was none of her careworn looks about her : 
she was bright and cheerful. 

Elchanan was still suspended between life and death. 
The ninth day of his sickness came and that night found 
his mother anxiously watching at his bedside. Rabbi 
Simeon sat in his study endeavoring to pursue the research 
on a certain subject which occupied his mind ; but his ex- 
hausted frame claimed its natural rights, the Rabbi'fell asleep, 
reclining on his book. A genial smile played on his featm-es 
while he was sunk in evidently pleasant dreams. When he 
awoke he closed his book and went into the sick-room 
with a cheerful smile on his countenance. 

"Bella," said he, addressing his wife, " our child will not 
die!" 

She looked at him with surprise ; but he sat down by her 
side and continued : 

" Listen, my dear, what a wonderful dream I had. 1 am 
certain that it had a bearing upon the future of our child, 
and although I cannot make out the meaning of the whole 
dream, I feel as though its main purport is that our child 
will not die. Fatigued, I fell asleep with a volume of the 
talmud open before me. The words and the letters became 
all mixed up and were dancing before my wearied eyes, 
then the latter assumed the forms wiiich their names signify. 



128 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

The Aleph api^eared like a prince with a sceptre in his 
hand governing a multitude of other princes who humbly 
approached him and kissed his feet. The Beth was trans- 
formed into a magnificent house, a palace the like of which 
I never saw in my life. Then appeared the Yod as a 
threatening arm with the Zcxin as a dreadful weapon 
clenched in its fist. I found myself sitting on a camel into 
which the Gimel was transformed, and making a journey 
with a sorrowful heart. I arrived at a wonderful place 
and the DaUth was transformed into a portal of the palace 
which Beth represented. The whole multitude then 
swayed to and fro in wild confusion before me, and sudden- 
ly I noticed that the prince which Aleph represented was 
our son Elchanan, sitting on a golden throne, with a three- 
fold crown on his head and princes and rulers kissing his 
foot with great humility. The Peli was then transformed 
into a mouth that smiled at me very pleasantly ; but I be- 
came frightened as I noticed a great golden cross upon the 
breast of my son. I commenced to cry bitterly and called 
him: 'Elchanan, Elchanan.' When he heard my voice he 
descended from his throne, flung away the large cross and 
clung to my breast, sobbing loudly and calling me his dear 
father. We were then surrounded by all the letters and 
carried back to Mayence. Here we found a throne with 
seventy steps, and a great multitude looking at it with 
fright ; for on each step there were placed roaring lions and 
eagles, that fluttered violently with their wings, just as King 
Solomon's throne is described by our sages. Elchanan 
then cheered the horrified multitude and ascended that 
throne courageously, while the roaring lions licked his feet 



RABBI ELCHANAN. 129 

and the eagles prostrated themselves before him. No 
sooner had he ascended the throne, when I saw a magnifi- 
cent crown, woven from the rays of the sun, on his head, 
and angels flying around him, a bright halo encircling him 
and all of us, and a loud voice called : ' Thus is honored 
the man who honored the King of Kings.' I was over- 
whelmed with joy and delight ; my eyes could not stand 
the glaring light that surrounded om- son, and the voice 
continued calling till I awoke. There is not a dream 
without nonsense; but I tell you, my dear, that this 
di-eam had a great significance. Whatever all the appari- 
tions may signify, of one thing I feel certain, that our 
child will live, and that he is destined for great glory." 

" The will of God be done !" said the pious mother, and 
bent over her child, who was bn-eathing gently and who 
had sunk into quiet slumber. 

Rabbi Nathan, the physician, was sitting at the bedside 
on the next morning, watching the child who was still 
asleep. When he awoke calmly and asked for his father, 
the physician said : " Blessed be He, who cures the sick. 
The crisis is happily over, your child is saved by the help 
of God, Rabbi." 



IV. 

THE ABDUCTION. 

Many days still was Elchanan confined to bed, and Mar- 
garet tended him with the greatest care. Whoever re- 
garded her could observe that her conduct toward the 

8* 



130 

child had assumed a strange character. If she fonnerly 
loved the boy and treated him with affectionate care, she 
now ministered to him with a sort of religious devotion. 
She could not suffer his relatives or even his parents to ap- 
proach him, and was jealous of every little service they 
would render. Her strange demeanor did not escape the 
notice of her mistress ; but it was ascribed by her to a mor- 
bid condition of Margaret's mind, which might have been 
the result of too much exertion on the part of the faithful 
nurse. The true cause however of Margaret's behavior 
was to be sought elsewhere. 

On that Sunday when she disclosed to her confessor 
her soiTow that her darling would die and go to hell, be- 
cause it was a Jewish boy, the pious Father advised her to 
preserve the poor little aoul from the gi'asp of Satan by 
performing on it the Sacrament of Baptism. Margaret 
followed the advice, and believed that she thus saved her 
nursling from death and damnation. From the moment 
that the ceremony was performed on the unconscious 
child, she regarded it as her own, and all her thoughts 
were engaged in a scheme to snatch it away from the Jew- 
ish parents and have it educated in the Roman Catholic re- 
ligion. Father Thomas, of course, planned his best for 
the salvation of the convert ; Margaret had only to follow 
his instructions. 

The New- Year's festival arrived, and all the inmates of 
the Rabbi's house had gone to the Synogogue to listen to 
the blowing of the Shophar. Only Elchanan had to 
remain at home with Margaret, for the physician did not 
allow him yet to leave the room. He noticed playing that 



EABBI ELCHANAN. 131 

his nurse was not as cheerful as she was wont to be, and 
that she often looked restlessly at the back door ; but Mar- 
garet told him that it was of no consequence and pressed him 
to her bosom with great affection. Presently a gentle rap- 
ping was heard at the door, the girl went to see who was 
there with a trembling heart. Some disguised men entered 
the room ; in a moment the frightened boy was grasped, 
his mouth tied up with a cloth, and he was carried off. All 
this was performed so quietly and so adroitly that not the 
slightest noise could be perceived OTJtside of the room. 

Margaret closed the door behind the kidnappers, and re- 
mained for a while stunned with emotion. But suddenly 
remorse followed the deed. She commenced to cry for 
her darling, threw herself on the floor, tore her hair, ac- 
cused herself of ingratitude, invoked all the punishments of 
heaven upon her head and raged in a fearful manner. She 
would be stopped for a minute by the thought that her 
dear nm*sling was saved for heaven, but then grief returned 
with greater violence. When Rabbi Simeon with his fam- 
ily returned from the synagogue, they found the girl lying 
on the floor, her hau' and dress in the greatest disorder and 
foam issuing from her mouth, while she yelled like a wild 
beast. 

"For heaven's sake!" cried Bella, "Margaret, stand up. 
Where is Elchanan, my child?" 

But she neither arose nor answered. Rabbi Nathan was 
summoned, who found the girl seriously sick and entirely 
unconscious. All in the house went in search of Elchanan, 
but in vain ; he could not be found anywhere. The sad 
news soon spread in the whole community ; continued 



132 GERSONl''s SKETCHES. 

search was made, the Mayor of the city and the Ai-ch- 
bishop were notified of the occurrence, a price was pro- 
claimed for the one who would discover anything about 
the lost child, messengers were sent in all directions, but 
iill of no avail. The only person who could give any in- 
formation was lying unconscious, and all that could be ob 
tained from her was a meaningless, mad smile. 

On the second New-Year's day, when the reader com- 
menced to recite the newly composed hymn of Rabbi 
Simeon: ^^El clianan nachlatJio henoain lehashpar^' the 
unhappy father sobbed Joudly, for it reminded him too 
forcibly of his beloved child. There was not an eye in the 
whole congregation that did not shed tears of sympathy 
with the honored and revered Rabbi. In the gallery of 
the ladies, Bella fainted awa}-, and it took considerable 
time before she was restored and could be taken home. 
At the close of the service however, Rabbi Simeon so far 
controlled himself that he could ofier consolation to his 
wife. The extreme piety of the bereft parents enabled 
them to bear their misfortune with fortitude and resigna- 
tion. Margaret died a few days after these occurrences, 
under the care of Father Thomas, who had watched at her 
bedside since he was notified of her sickness. 



RABBI ELCHANAN. 13^ 



V. 



Elchanan was taken to the convent on the Jacobsberg, 
and brought into the cell of Father Thomas. Not quite 
recovered from his recent sickness, the fright and desire 
for his parents caused the poor boy to be prostrated by a 
fever much stronger than the former. The exertions of 
the good monk nearly proved abortive, for the sickness 
which returned with redoubled vigor threatened to deprive 
him of his prize. But no efforts were spared to save the 
life of the boy. At last his strong constitution resisted 
the fatal attacks of his sickness, he recovered again, re- 
gained consciousness, but he lost all recollections of the past. 
He placed implicit confidence in Father Thomas, who was 
exceedingly kind and gentle toward him and called him 
by the name of " Felix." 

When Felix became well. Father Thomas brought him 
to the monastery of St. Jacob at Bamberg, where nobody 
would think of searching for the lost child and no outside 
investigation could discover him. Felix soon became the 
favorite of all the monks of that establishment. They 
taught him all they could, and were astonished at his eager 
desu'e to learn, his wonderful faculty of comprehension, and 
his remarkable memory. At the age of seven years he 
could speak and write the Latin language wdth great facil- 
ity. But this was all that he could learn at Bamberg, 
and the Prior, who was very fond of him and desired that 



134 SERSONl's SKETCHES. 

his abilities should be cultivated to the best advantage, 
took him to Rome. There he also surprised everybody 
with his wonderful talents ; he was introduced to the Pope, 
who took a great interest in him, and entrusted his further 
education to the best professors. 

At that time the Papacy was at the acme of its power. 
The successors of Peter were able to make the most pow- 
erful m on arch s subservient to their will by the thunder of 
excommunication. Hildebrand, a Benedictine monk, a 
man of unlimited ambition and possessor of great influence 
and the most intimate friend of Archbishop Laurentius 
Amalfi, interested himself especially in the education of the 
bright and hopeful boy. Thus Felix grew up in the circle 
of the Papal court, where arts and sciences were cultivated 
to a great extent. When he had attained the age of nine 
years, his patron Hildebrand succeeded to the apostolic 
See under the appellation of Gregory VII. With this 
event commenced a very exciting period in the history of 
Papacy. The ideas which Hildebrand conceived while 
yet a humble monk, he designed to carry out as Pope Greg- 
ory VII. His great plan was to establish a theocracy on 
the principle that the Pope, as representative of God on 
earth, should be supreme Judge, not only in ecclesiastical 
but also in all political affairs. For this object he needed 
a host of devotees in all countries, who should have no 
otlier attachment but the church. Such in fact were the 
numerous clergy whose influence was unbounded ; but their 
attachment to the church was in many instances hindered 
on account of their family connections by marriage. They 
were sometimes not to be entrusted in carrying out the 



RABBI ELCHANAN. 135 

plans, of the Pope, for one or more of their relatives, some- 
times their sons, were dependent on terrestrial potentates. 
In order to render the clergy more attached to the chm-ch 
it was necessary that they should remain single. This was 
the great plan of Gregory VII, and to bring it into execu- 
tion he issued the bull enjoining celibacy. 

A storm of opposition arose against that papal decree. 
Thousands of the married clergy were indignant, because 
they were compelled either to sever their family connec- 
tions or to lose their position. In many instances the re- 
sistance was intense, especially in Germany. But Gregory 
was not the man to relinquish what he once undertook to 
do and deemed was right. He sent reliable messengers to 
all the revolting states, to pacify the irritated clergy and 
to subject them to his will. The ablest of his confidents 
in this case was Father Felix, who had grown up under his 
influence and was now a young man of imposing appear- 
ance and glowing eloquence. 



VI. 

THE RISING STAR. 

Felix discharged his duties with the best success. He 
understood how to appease the irritated minds of the clergy, 
sometimes flattering their vanity by addressing them as co- 
laborers in the great work in which the Pope was engaged, 
and sometimes appealing to their religious sentiments with 
great effect. His fame spread throughout Germany, and 



136 GERSONl's SKECTHES. 

all the superior Bishops of troublesome dioceses were de- 
lighted when he came to their succor. His valuable ser- 
vices as papal nuncio were accordingly rewarded by the 
Pope. While yet on his travels promotions and honors 
were conferred upon him, and he rose like a shining meteor 
in the services of his chm-ch. 

At that time there commenced the struggle between the 
Pope and the German Emporer, and it was of the greatest 
importance to the interests of the former tliat the German 
Princes should revolt against the authority of their liege 
lord. The efforts of Felix in this direction wrought won- 
ders. When his object was attained he purposed to return 
to Rome, but he received the nomination of Bishop of Ro- 
verido with advice not to discontinue his journey through 
Germany. Two years afterward, while at Trier, Felix 
received the news that he had been appointed Archbishop 
of Ravenna, and the following year the Pope sent him a 
cardinal's hat to Brunswick. Thus the young priest of 
twenty-five years had attained an eminence which but few 
can reach at their old age. Immediately thereafter he was 
summoned to the South of Germany. The Bishop of Re- 
gensburg was awaiting him with impatience. Henry IV 
had recovered from his deep humiliation, he gathered his 
friends around him and defeated his adversary. Emperor 
Rudolph of Seralia. The Star of Gregory YII began to* 
grow dim, and his adherents made the utmost exertions to 
reassure success for his cause. A council of the Pope's 
adherents were assembled at Regensburg and Felix's pres 
ence was needed in their midst. 

In the neighborhood of that town the carriage of the 



RABBI ELCHANAN. 137 

young Cardinal suddenly halted, a Jew having thrown 
himself before the feet of the horses. Felix had the Jew 
brought before him and kindly asked him what he desired. 

"You should save my child, most gracious Sir!" the un- 
fortunate man exclaimed. *' My name is Meshullam, and I 
live in Regensburg. While on a journey to Bamberg the 
servants of the Knight of Rothenfels attacked me and 
robbed me of all I had mth me, and tore away my beloved 
daughter from my bosom. In vain»have I applied for help 
wherevei- T could for six months. Recentl}^ I heard that 
you were coming to our city. Your fame as a kind man 
and benevolent to the poor and oppressed reached me be- 
fore. I resolved to apply to you, and knowing that T could 
not obtain access to your presence in the city I waited for 
you on the road. Pray, be merciful to an unfortunate fa- 
ther and restore him his dear and only child!" 

Felix took the Jew in his carriage and asked him to re- 
late the particulars of the atrocious deed. The Knight was 
a partisan of the Emperor and lived in open hostility to the 
Bishops of Regensburg, who had dominion over the Jews 
of that city. The Bishops had matters of too great im- 
portance on hand to afford time for the delivei-ance of a 
Jewish girl. Felix promised the grieving father to aid 
him by all means at his command. 

A great assembly of princes, nobles and clergy received 
the young cardinal at Regensburg with great honor. In 
their consultation concerning the cause of their church 
Felix inspired them with fidelity to the chm-ch, and gave 
them much sound advice. While the victorious Empe- 
ror was marching to Italy to avenge the humiliation which 
9 



138 

he had experienced, the friends of the Pope caused a general 
revolt throughout Germany. The vassals of the Emperor 
were beaten everywhere, also the castle of Rothenfels was 
taken, and Felix took care that the captured Jewish girl 
should be rescued and he himself brought her back to her 
happy parents. 

From Regensburg, Felix proceeded to Bamberg. The 
aged prior of St. Jacob's monastery felt very much flattered 
when the cardinal introduced himself as a former inmate 
and pupil of that institution ; and the monks were trans- 
ported with delight that the most popular and highly re 
spected papal-nuncio took up his abode there. On one 
occasion, when Felix was in a pi'ivate conversation with 
the prior, he improved the o})portunity to ask the latter 
concerning his origin. 

"You brought me to Rome," Felix said, ''when J was 
a child seven years old. You must know, then, honoi-ed 
father, from whom you I'cceived me." 

" Most reverend sir,'" rejoined the prior, *' a monk of 
Mayence, by the name of Thomas, brought you to us. He 
did it very secretly, and we asked no questions. Very 
often children are brought to us of whose origin we are 
entirely ignorant. We educate them as priests and do not 
concern ourselves about their origin or past. I think you 
are the son of a great nobleman who wished to keep your 
birth a secret. Your appearance and conduct as a child 
evinced very noble qualities." 

The brow of the cardinal became obscured. He could 
not endure the thought that he was of illegitimate birth. 
He determined to s^o to Mavence in order to see father 



RABBI RLCHANAN. 139 

Tliomas and discover the truth of hira. But the same day- 
he received a letter from Home, the Pope desired his im- 
mediate return. 



VII. 



THE CLIMAX. 



The Emperor had met with repeated success. He 
marched victoriously through upper Italy and would have 
captured his enemy, Gregory VII, who was besieged in Cas- 
tle Engelsburg, but for the Norman Duke, Robert Giscard. 
The latter came in time to rescue the Pope, and took him 
to Yerna, where Felix also arrived and remained faithful to 
his friend and former patron. Gregory's health was im- 
paired with the loss of his political power. He w^as pros- 
trated by a sudden attack of sickness, and soon afterward 
he died. His last words were : '' I loved justice and hated 
wickedness ; therefore I am dying in captivity." On his 
death-bed he gathered his friends around him and recom- 
mended them his trusty Felix as his successor. 

The Papal party returned to Rome where they executed 
the last will of Gregory VII. Cardinal Felix, alias 
Elchanan, son of Rabbi Simon the Great, was installed as 
Pope under the name of Victor III, when he was scarcely 
thirty years old. The Papal crown was at that time the 
highest of all authority. ' The Pope ruled over kings and 
■emperors ; a large part of the inhabited globe actually lay 



140 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

prostrate at his feet, and this authority was swayed by such 
a young man ! Was not he the happiest of men ? Did 
not he attain a position which was the highest goal of am- 
bition ? Yes, Victor III was actually the greatest of all 
men of his time, the greatest in power, and above all 
other men in authority, but happy — he was not ! 

If we consider the vicissitudes of his life, as we know 
his history from the cradle till the Papal three-fold crown, 
we will not find this fact startling at all. From his fourth 
year up to his sixteenth he had been taught much, and he 
learned much of a religious system which was quite the 
reverse of what his Jewish instinct required, (for we must 
admit that there is such a thing as a "Jewish instinct," in 
the mental constitution of a Hebrew child.) Since then, 
tliere was no time allowed him to reflect on what he learned, 
or rather to digest it. It had been all mechanical work 
with him. His eager and sharp mind had been stuffed with 
one-sided ideas, without allowing him any leisure to see 
even that there were different religious views which might 
be worth while considering at least. No sooner was his 
knowledge sufficient for the purpose of the church than it 
was immediately set to work to be utilized. From his 
sixteentli oi- eighteenth year, Felix was constantly preach- 
ing, joui-ueying and working for the benefit of Papacy, as 
a mere machine. If he had opportunity enough to see the 
" worldly " or egotistic aims of the Romish church, he had 
no time to reflect on what he saw ; the incessant work he 
had to perform, the applause of the multitudes at the ex- 
hibition of his talents, the appreciation or acknowledgment 
of his superiors and finally the successive promotions in 



RABBI ELCHANAN. 14:1 

position and honors were enough to satisfy any ambition 
and to give place to no original thought. 

But now when he found himself in the very highest posi- 
tion his church could afford, when he was no longer an 
instrument, but a controlling power, when his will was no 
more a passive executor, but an active impulse, he com- 
menced to study himself, to penetrate into the significance 
of what he represented, and found out that if his will was 
to be guided by his heart and human instincts, the whole 
machine that he was running was to assume quite a different 
aspect and work in quite a different direction. But must 
not all " human " instinct and desire submit to the " divine " 
ordinances ? Must not the " body " be denied for tlie sake 
of the " soul "t Certainly, so he was taught, and so he was 
liitherto preaching to others. In order to create and diffuse 
regulations to that effect, as his position now required, he 
must try to penetrate into the depth of Divine law. Vic- 
tor III grasped eagerly at the Bible, which he hoped would 
stifle the revolt within him or the struggle between Ids 
mind and his duty. A short study of himself caused him 
to doubt, a longer study of the divine wdll would " enlighten 
his soul." So he thought ; but to his dismay he found out 
that the Bible had quite a differient bearing than what he 
knew of it. In fact he kneio a great many things and un- 
tter stood nothing. As the representative of God on earth 
he wanted, his position obliged him, to understand ; but in 
spite of all this, his comprehension worked in a dii'ection 
contrary to that of his calling ; the Bible taught him some- 
thing quite different from wliat the interest of papacy 



142 

required. Nature produced him as a rnatiy and he could not 
be God. 

In short Victor came to the conviction that papacy is 
not what the Bible teaches, and as a self-standing divine 
decree it was too unjust to himaanity in general. The 
" mysteries " of his church he could not understand, and 
the aim of papacy he found more consistent with human 
weakness than with divine " grace and justice." He had 
now either to work in the interest of his position, denying 
all that is holy and just, or to follow the dictates of his con- 
science. The foi-mer was too degrading a task and the 
latter was an impossibility. 

Once reading the original text of the Bible the verse, 

in^ rcr^" ^Trh^ rcro b^'^"^^ v^^ ^^^^ particular 

hold of his thoughts. He reflected something to the fol- 
lowing effect : 

" How strange it is that this declaration is so persist- 
ently adhered to by the Jews. It is stranger still that I 
feel as if these words were a dream of my own childhood, 
or a vision of another world. Can these words have a 
simple analogy with the prmciples I am to uphold I The 
same "^I" i^ HirP declares at another place *' no man can 
see me and live." My church takes the words : " they saw 
God " in a literal sence. (Acts 10, 41. Luke 24, 41-4S 
and parallel places) which is an inconsistency with the 
former. But the words p|]p] and ri5*^*l ^^'^ different^in 
significance ; the former expresses " mental sight "' or con- 
ception, the latter means physical sight. The original 
text can be well understood without the christian dogma. 
From this point, Victor's thoughts branched oflf in con- 



RABBI ELCHANAN. 143 

templation of other dogmas and he felt as if he would go 
insane about these reflections. When Avith a great effort 
he started from his seat exclaiming : " Why shall I fret 
so much about these matters ? Cannot I go along with the 
tide of events as many others have done before me ? Why 
cannot I take care that the interests of my crown should 
be preserved and leave other matters stand where they are 1 
Who in the world could disentangle these confused abstrac- 
tions ? I, for a certainty, cannot. I cannot even feiTet 
out the mystery of my own origin." Here his ideas took 
again a different direction. Since his interview with the 
Prior of St. Jacob's monastery the thought that he was 
of illegitimate birth was gnawing his heart. He sat down 
again in melancholy and oppressing reflections, which 
were suddenly interrupted by a servant. 

" Holy father," said the servant, " a german monk desires 
to have a private interview with your Holiness on a very 
important subject." 

" What is his name 1 Of what diocese, and of which 
Order is he f 

" His name is Thomas. He comes from Mayence, and 
belongs to the Jacobin order." 

Victoi- was struck with this announcement. It took him 
considerable time to recover presence of mind to see the 
man, who came so apropos to his thoughts, as if sent by 
special providence. He ordered the monk to be admitted 
into his presence. 



144 



VIII. 

THE MLCH-AVANTED INFORMATION. 

Victor had sufficiently nerved himself to meet father 
Thomas, and he scrutinized the features and the looks of 
that man from whom he hoped to obtain information con- 
cerning the matter that troubled him so much while the 
other api)roached him humbly and kissed his foot. Under 
ordinary circumstances Victor would have passed without 
taking notice of the aged monk, for there was- nothing 
peculiar either in his features or in his long grey beard or 
in his deep-set lustrous eyes. As for Thomas he could 
scarcely breathe in tlie august presence of the successor of 
Peter, and the thought that this God on earth was none 
else but the Jewish boy whom he had stolen twenty-six 
years ago was quite overwhelming for him. The poor monk 
trembled in every limb ; Victor understood his emotions 
and allowed him some time to recover himself. 

" You wanted to speak to me privately, Thomas f asked 
the Pope after a few minutes of deep silence. 

" Yes, Holy father," rejoined the monk with a trembling 
voice. " I was recently on a visit to Bamberg, my native 
city, from which I was absent for many years. The Prior 
of St. Jacob's monasteiy there told me about the wonder- 
ful vicissitudes that occurred in the life of the boy whom I 
had delivered to the care of that establishment twenty-six 
years ago. He moreover informed me .that your Holiness 
is very desirous of knowing your origin. I therefore came 



RABBI KLGHANAN. 14r5 

liere to satisfy the desire of your Holiness, and I hope that 
the trouble I have taken will meet with just appreciation." 

" You shall have no reason to complain about the last, 
Thomas. Tell me what you know." 

The. monk then related how the child of Rabbi Simeon 
of Mayence was stolen from the house of his parents by his 
arrangement. How he was secretly baptized, and how a 
strong and protracted sickness had erased from his memory 
all recollections of the past. He mentioned also the unfor- 
tunate fate of the servant girl who had been the cause and 
instrument of all his schemes ; and finished his naiTa- 
tive by a minute description of the kind treatment which 
the boy had received from his hand until he was brought 
to the convent of St. Jacob at Bamberg for security sake. 
The Pope listened attentively to the story of the monk, and 
when the latter had finished he exclaimed : 

" Oh, how clearly I understand now many strange and 
'inexplicable emotions of my heart !" He rose from his 
seat and paced up and down the apartment for a few min- 
utes in great agitation. He then turned to the monk, and 
regarding him with a glance as if desirous of penetrating 
the veiy depths of his heart, he asked : 

" Tell me, Thomas, do you not feel any remorse for the 
child-theft you have committed ? Do you not feel any 
qualm of conscience about the happiness of a family you 
liave marred, about the grief you have caused to a loving 
father, about the heart of a tender mother you have broken ? 
Do you not feel any contrition for having presumed to 
interfere with the arrangements of Providence, having taken 
a human being while a helpless child and brought him up 
9* 



146 

to a course of life quite different from that for which GocI 
had destined him by birth ?" 

" Remorse ? Contrition V echoed the astonished priest, 
" your Holiness is pleased to jest with your humble serv- 
ant. Shall my conscience reprove me for having rescued 
a soul from the grasp of li ell and returned it unto the Lord ? 
Did not my good work, the best I have ever done in my 
life, prosper so that the soul that was doomed to eternal 
damnation has become the holiest on earth, sainted while 
yet among the living, through my instrumentality f 

"Hell, damnation, eternity and what not," muttered 
Victor to himself, " all for the purpose of making life miser- 
able ! Who is the mortal who would undertake to fight 
delusion. It is too base even to provoke the anger of an 
honest heart. Listen, Thomas," he addressed the monk, 
'' I shall richly remunerate you for all your trouble, but tell 
me the truth ; does anybody know the secret of my oi'igin 
besides you ?" 

"Not one person living, Holy Father," was the answer. 
** As I had the honor to report, the girl who was my in- 
strument died a few days after the person of your Holiness 
had been secured, and the men who brought you to me 
had not the slightest notion who you were, and know not 
what has become of you." 

" Now," said Victor, " you will swear never to betray 
the fact." 

Thomas swore as the Pope required. He then received 
an appointment to the diocese of Bamberg, with a rich pre- 
bend, and having kissed the foot of the Pope he was dis- 
missed. 



RABBI ELCHANAU. 147 

Since the last occurrence Victor enjoyed neither rest nor 
ease. The knowledge that he had yet a father and a mo- 
ther generated in his heart a yearning after them. But 
how should he come to them ? He could not leave Rome, 
nor could he summon a Jewish Rabbi to his palace without 
exciting suspicion. The highest church dignitaries, whom 
the young Pope had superceded in such a wondeiful man- 
ner, were envious of their superior and would be glad to 
notice any action which was of a doubtful character, in or- 
der to diminish his popularity. His origin had long since 
been a matter of comment and doubt, but he took pains to 
create reports that traced his origin to one of the highest 
Italian families. Now, he bad to do all he could in order 
to delude his enemies from the right track. A direct com- 
munication with the Rabbi of Mayence, without any valid 
i-eason for the world, would destroy all his labors. But at 
last he conceived a plan to satisfy his yearning desire with- 
out exciting any suspicion. He sent an order to the Arch- 
bishop of Mayence, that the Jews of his diocese should 
abolish some of their religious customs, unless their Rabbi 
with two other prominent men appear before the Papal 
throne to prove that such ceremonies are of great signifi- 
cance and of material importance to their lives and habits. 



148 OERSONl's SKETOHBS. 

IX. 

THE KABBI AND THE POPR. 

Rabbi Simeon, the Great, and the elders of the Jewish 
•community were summoned to the Ai'chbishop of Mayence, 
who addressed them in the following tei*ms : 

'' It is the will of om- Holy See, that the Jewish commu- 
nity of Mayence should abolish the observance of their 
.Sabbath and pm-ification ceremonies. But our Holy Fa- 
ther is as kind-hearted a man as he is a saint on earth. 
He allows you the privilege of sending a delegation to 
Home to |)rove the necessity of such observances, if you 
deem it impossible to submit to his soul-saving will. Till 
the return of your delegates, I am not to enforce his order. 
Tell me now whether you will follow the injunctions of the 
Holy Father, or you will send your representatives to plead 
before his throne ?" 

" We have heard of the kindness of your Pope," retorted 
the Rabbi after he had recovered from the first impression 
this announcement had made upon him. " We have heard 
also of his great learning. We therefore hope that we shall 
be able to prove to him how indispensable these ceremonies 
are for the maintenance of our creed, and at the same time 
their great importance to our earthly wellfare. We will 
therefore repair to Rome the day after to-morrow." 

" And I will not enforce this regulation until I hear again 
from the Holy Father." 

The whole Jewish community were frightened at the in- 
telligence of this new calamity. Their only consolation 



BABBl ELCHANAN. 1 4r9 

that the Pope might be moved to withdraw his order 
by the eloquence and learning of their Rabbi. The follow- 
ing day was immediatly announced as a prayer and fast 
day, and the whole community assembled in the synagogue 
to implore the Almighty that he would grant success to 
the mission of the Kabbi. Tradition says that the prayer 
*' Be thou, O Lord with the mouths of the ambassadors of 
thy people Israel ; teach them what they should speak, en- 
lighten them on what they have to discuss etc.," was com- 
posed by Rabbi Simeon the Great on that occasion. The 
whole congregation accompanied their Rabbi for a dis- 
tance out of the city, singing that prayer. 

Pope Victor III was sitting on his throne, surrounded 
by all the splendor of his court, when the delegation of the 
Jews of Mayence was announced. He started up at this 
announcement as if an electric shock had })assed through 
his frame. But in an instant he recovered sufficient pres- 
ence of mind to consider his situation, and in order to re- 
lieve the fancy of those that surrounded him and by whom 
his agitation might have been noticed, he asked in an an- 
gry voice : 

"What do the accursed Jews want liere? Wlio sent 
them ?" 

" Your Holiness will please recollect," answered the Sec- 
retary, " the order which was sent to the Archbishop of 
that diocese concerning some Jewish ceremonies to be 
abolished. There was a clause in that order permitting 
the Rabbi and other Jewish officials of Mayence to appeal* 
before your Holiness in order to prove the validity of those 
ceremonies." 



150 GEBSONl's SKETCHES. 

Victor pretended to reflect a few minutes, and ordered 
the delegation to be admitted. When Rabbi Simon ap- 
peared in the apartment, two other Rabbis following him 
at a respectful distance, his long gray beard reaching hia 
girdle, his lofty forehead and expressive dark eyes turned 
toward the Pope, the latter was almost rooted to the spot. 
But the Rabbi felt a similar feeling. The young man with 
the three-fold crown on his head and large golden cross on 
Ids breast strongly reminded him of the dream he once had 
concerning his beloved and much lamented child. The old 
man almost fainted ; it was only the consciousness of his 
duty that upheld him. A few moments of silence again, 
and Victor asked : " Are you Rabbi Simon of Mayence ? 
You are renowned as a scholar and a poet. Can you de- 
fend the ceremonies that I would rather have you abolish f 

" Yes, mighty Ruler, my name is Simon," answered the 
Rabbi, modestly, "and it pleased my people to entrust to 
me the office of Rabbi of Mayence. Concerning the cere- 
monies, I wall endeavor to lay before your mighty judg- 
ment the reasons we have to observe them, as far as my 
feeble abilities will allow me ; and may the God of grace 
and justice direct my speech!" 

The dignified appearance of tlie old man, together with 
the impressive voice which testified to liis sincerity while 
he spoke, made a deep impression on all by-standers. Vic- 
tor hesitated a short while, and then asked the Rabbi some 
(piestions concerning religion, which were answered in a 
clear and explicit manner. When the Sabbath question 
was touched the Rabbi grew especially eloquent. He laid 
out the primary principles of Judaism as a religion which 



KABBl ELCH^NAN. 151 

offered to its adherents the world with all the good that 
was* created in it. God had destined man to labor on what 
he has to enjoy. Nature has not provided for him eitlier 
clothes to protect him against the changes of climate or in- 
struments to defend him against his enemies, not even eat- 
ables, which are good for him in all circumstances without 
preparation. Man must labor to contrive for all his necessi- 
ties himself; therefore God had provided him with an in- 
genious mind. If the labor of man should continue with- 
out intermission he could not exist, his frame requu'es rest. 
Therefore day and night intervene, the foi-mer for work, 
the latter for rest.* But the intellect of man must also have 
its spiritual food, of which the knowledge of God is the 
highest thing, beneficial to both body and soul. For this 
pur])ose the Sabbath, the day of rest is ordained. Thus 
the observance of this day reminds man of his station in 
creation, of his dependence on God, of his duties toward 
his fellow man as co-laborers in everything that is needful 
and good. In short, it is intended to ennoble his mind and 
to cheer him in his naturally helpless state. The Rabbi 
gently hinted here that as Judaism is a religion that cares 
tor body and soul alike, its adherents must regard the Sab- 
bath according to the primary idea of this institution. 

When the. discussion was finished, the Pope said he was 
praying that the time might speedily come when the Jews 
will learn to " cast away the V)ody for the sake of the soul," 
according to the teachings of Christianity. He would 
therefore not press them at present to abolish what they 
think imperatively necessary, for he felt certain that God 
will enlighten their minds, and then they will do it of their 



152 

own accord. He then asked the Rabbi to accompany him 
to his private apartment, as he wanted to consult him (K>n- 
cerning some Kabalistical matters. The Secretary was 
ordered to recall the order that was sent to the Archbishop 
of Mayence, the comt was dismissed, and the Rabbi with 
the Pope remained alone. 



THE RECOGNITION. 



" Please to take a seat, Rabbi," said Victor when they 
entered the study, " and answer my inquiries Avithout re- 
serve, for our conversation here will be of a strictly private 
nature, and no matter what you may say concerning some 
religious dogmas, your opinion wall have no further conse- 
quence whatever. In this room you will please regard me 
as a fellow-scholar, and what your fellow-scholar may heai* 
from you will be ignored by the Poj^e, unless it is for your 
own advantage and by your own desire." 

The Rabbi's countenance brightened up by this kind 
address. He modestly complied with the request and 
promised to utter his opinion freely. Victor took out a 
Hebrew Bible and commenced to interrogate the Ralibi on 
such points as most troubled his mind. With his usual 
quick perception, the Rabbi understood at once that the 
head of the Romish^ church was by far not as stout a be- 
liever as he ought to be. He therefore explained to him 



KAEBi p:lchanan. 153 

the theory of faith in general and proceeded to answer the 
topics of inquuy in particular. Victor listened to his 
fluent and well-pointed arguments with undisguised delight. 
A new, hitherto unknown sphere of thought was opened 
before him by the ablest of its votaries. The significance 
of man as he is, his relation to his Creator above and the 
physical world below him, the world as created by God 
with providence for man's wants, and many more ques- 
tions of ecjual im})ortance, were laid out before him in such 
a rational and comprehensive manner as he never had any 
conception of. The poetical flavor of the Rabbi's dis- 
course softened his heart, the earnest fervor and eloquence 
of the old man engaged his strictest attention, and the vast 
knowledge displayed was delicious food for his eager mind. 
P]very word of the Rabbi found its place in Victor's heart ; 
he listened for a long, long time, and when the Rabbi 
stopped, he said : •' You have my heartiest thanks. Rabbi, 
for the knowledge which you unfolded to me. I hope you 
will remain yet for some time in Rome and give me the 
pleasure of a few more interviews." 

" If such is your will, Sire, 1 must comply ; but my 
family will miss me at home, and my congregation, too, 
may want my advice." 

At the mention of family, Victor arose from his seat, 
lie did not know how to broach the chief subject which 
lie wanted to inquire of the Rabbi. Now, as the opportunity 
offered itself to him, he trembled. 

'' Have you a large family, Rabbi ? Is your wife living 
still f he asked with a stifled voice. 

'' My wife is living, thanks to the Almighty : my whole 
10 



154 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

family consists of two sons and a daughter-in-law at home. 
I have two other sons and two daughters, all of whom are 
married out of Mayence." 

" Is that all the children you ever had ?" 

" Oh, no," answ^ered the venerable man with a sigh ; " I 
have lost a child, a boy four years old, of remarkable 
beauty and evincing extraordinary abilities at his tender 
age. Oh, what did I not hope of that child ? I was too 
proud of him and loved him too much, and it has pleased 
God to deprive me of him. Just to-day, when I came 
into your presence, Su'e, I was forcibly reminded of his 
sweet, intellectual face." 

" My presence, liabbi ? How so?" 

" Pardon me, Sire, if my saying so is in any way not in 
accordance with the respect due to your august person ; 
but such in fact was the case. My boy was prostrated by 
a dangerous sickness before 1 lost him, and I had a dream 
in which I saw him with a three-fold crown on his head, 
and a large golden cross on his breast, surrounded by 
princes and nobles who meekly bowed before him and 
kissed his feet ; just as I beheld you to-day." 

"And that son of yours died of his illness f 

*' No, Sire, he recovered ; but was lost a lew weeks afler- 
ward without leaving any trace behind him," said the 
Rabbi vehemently. " We have not even the comfort of 
knowing where his earthly remains rest." 

" How did it happen f' 

"Nobody knows. It is supposed that his nurse who 
died of a raging madness a few days afterward, had 
drowned him ill the Rhine. We left him wdth her alone. 



RABBI ELCHANAN. 155 

and when we returned she was lying on the lloor m utter 
unconsciousness. 

" What was the name of that boy ?" 

"Elchanan." 

"Elchanan!" echoed Victor running about the room and 
pressing his forehead with both hands. " Elchanan ! What 
a sound ! ^Shema Israel is a sound that haunted me day 
and night as if familiar from another existence ; now there 
is another sound ; Elchanan, Elchanan !" He was pacing 
bewildered through his apartment repeating that word a 
thousand times as if trying to recollect where it came from. 
The Rabbi looked at him, stunned with fright at his curi- 
ous demeanor and exclamations. Victor suddenly stopped 
before the trembling old man, crying : 

" Elchanan, that is a familiar word. El chanan nach- 
latho henoam lehashpar T Kabbi Simeon staited from 
his seat at this exclamation, the young Pope fell in his arms 
crying : " Father, beloved father, I am your lost boy, your 
Elchanan!" 



XL 



HOT CONTROVERSY. 

The two delagates who came with Rabbi Simeon to 
Rome departed on the following day to Mayence to an- 
nounce the gladdening information that the Pope has been 
moved by the skillful arguments of their Rabbi to withdraw 
the order of abolition. The Rabbi himself was detained 



156 GKRSONl's SKETCHES. 

by the Pope to '' instruct him in the mysterious lore of 
Kabala/' 

Rabbi Simeon visited the Pope on the plea of instruct- 
ing him, and thus father and son had daily intercourse for 
several weeks without exciting the suspicion of any one. 
More than a quarter of a century had passed since the in- 
nocent cliild was torn away from the bosom of his father. 
All the time the spirit and sentiments of the Jewish boy 
had been stilled, and his extraordinary abilities had been 
cultivated in quite a different direction than his innate sym- 
pathies tended. Hence the stmggle that the young Pope 
ha<l with himself: it was the struggle between a born Jew, 
and an educated adherent to the Romish chm-ch. Victor 
found in his father a sincere friend, with a sympathetic 
heart, a cultivated mind and deep learning. Such a friend 
he would in vain search for among his prelates and Bishops. 
To that friend he opened his heart freely, from him he 
sought comfort in his ti'oubles, consolation in his sorrows, 
and enlightenment on the subjects which he could not un- 
derstand. The Rabbi, although anxious to see his son 
converted to the truth, never made any direct remarks con- 
cerning the religious differences that existed between them. 
But the philosophical theories by which he tried to en- 
lighten his son on matters of doubt and inward struggle, 
were not of a^ nature that Roman Catholicism could profit 
by. The young Pope grew«thoughtful and abstracted, and 
this was ascribed by his Bishops to the deep studies in 
which he was engaged. 

In one interview with his father Victor freely confessed 
that in spite of all the gloi-y which surrounded him he was 



RABBI ELCHANAX. 157 

QOt happy, and wanted to be enlightened on tlie subject of 
his own self. Rabbi Simeon made a thorough psychologi- 
cal analysis of the mental qualities of his son. He proved 
that no happiness, no tranquillity of mind can be had by a 
man whose pursuits in life are contrary to the sympathies 
of his heart and requirements of his nature. The argument 
gradually arrived at the point where the Rabbi proved that 
the heart of a man which is yearning for a union with its 
God cannot be happy when communicating with him 
through mediators — God-men and God-women. That as 
long as the body of man is the tenant of his soul, the former 
must have its natural requirements, and abstinence is dis- 
advantageous to both alike as well as it is a reproach to 
the Creator who provided for the body its natural necessities. 
This was a direct insinuation against the religious profes- 
sion of Victor ; but he had nothing to say in his defence, 
for he knew his own feelings very well. He became 
thoughtful for a few moments and then said : 

" You are perfectly right, father, but it is not enough 
that you show me where the evil lies ; enlighten me also 
how I am to remedy it." 

"Till now," rejoined the Rabbi, "your inquiries turned 
on general topics and my answers were to the effect that 
you should become influenced with the truth and draw con- 
solation from it. But now, my son, you asked me a ques- 
tion directly regarding yourself, and it is my duty as a 
father to give you my advice. At our first meeting here 
I related you a dream which I had concerning you twenty- 
six years ago. I told you only the first part of that dream 
which has come to such a wonderful fulfillment. At the 



158 



termination of that dream I saw you throwing away the 
tliree-fold crown and the cross, and becoming my own dear 
Elchanan again." 

" Rabbi Simeon," cried Victor startled at the last remark, 
" what do you wish me to do ? Do you understand the 
nature of the sacrifice you require ?" 

"Require'?'' repeated the Rabbi rising from his seat, 
"Rabbi Simeon is a Jew, and can a Jew I'eqiiire anything 
from the Pope of Rome? I can not and do not require any- 
thing from the head of the Romish church. From this god 
on earth I could he<j only that he should suspend his pyres, 
tortures and soul-saving bulls regarding my people. Require 
I can only from my children who are- depending on my 
advice. To a son of mine, in the situation of your Holiness I 
would say, cast away the crown that jj^-esses your existence so 
heavily for the sake of your own happiness. To my son I 
would say, cast off everything that is a barrier between you 
and those to whom you belong, between you and your God, 
between you and your own self. Your crown is only a goal ot 
ambition to dispose of the ftite of a million human beings 
in spite of God who created them as free as yourself. The 
riches which that crown affords you can not take along in 
the grave, and even while on earth it gives you only your 
food and clothing and deprives you of many better things 
which the poorest laborer can enjoy. The love of a family, 
which jOur crown can not procure for you, the perpetuation 
of a race, which yonYlIoluicss disdains in spite of the laws of 
God and nature, the felicity of the embraces of a child is 
more than riches can buy or glory replace. The conscious- 
ness of a life spent in harmony with one's self, is much 



RABBI ELCHANAN. 159 

above any goal of ambition for outward dazzle. The love 
of a few friends whom we attach to ourselves by honest 
sympathy, is worth more than subjecting a thousand nations 
with an iron grasp. If I knew that my son was happy in 
the belief that has been forced upon him by malevolent 
superstition, I would not require of him to renounce it, 
though my heart were to bleed at the cruel separation 
between him and myself. But if that son should confess to 
me his unbelief, and I would see that it is only a dazzling 
and unjust ambition that has taken hold of him and was 
(|uelling his better sentiments, I would show him tlie real 
worth of what he. has, and ofter him for it life and truth. 
I would appeal to his better senses and require him to 
clioose the right. But to the Pope of Rome, I narrated 
a dream and nothing more." 

There was a flow of bitterness and aggravation in the 
address of the Rabbi, every word of which pierced the 
heart of Victor. He sat with his head reclining on his hand^ 
his face Was glowing with emotion like that of the, speaker ; 
but his eyes were fixed on the ground not daring to meet 
the lustrous eye of his father. A torturing silence com- 
menced when the Rabbi finished his address. When Victor 
recovered and was going to say something, a domestic 
came in and announced the arrival of a French delegation, 
which he was requested to attend. He had only time to 
say: " Father, pray do not repulse me. Come to-morrow." 
He said it with such an imploring expression that the old 
man was moved to tears. 



160 



XII. 

FIXAL CONVERSION AND SACRIFICE. 

When Rabbi Simeon came the next day he found Victor 
walking up and down the Uixurious apartment. The fea- 
tures of the young Pope were much brighter, and his 
manner betrayed some cheerful emotion. 

" Father," said he as soon as the Rabbi entered the room, 
" your words of yesterday have made a very deep impression 
on my heart. I spent the whole night in prayer and God has 
enlightened my mind on what I hav^ to do in order to 
avoid extremities. I have made up my mind to stay here 
and retain all my power and authority. But the last I will 
utilize for the benelit of my Jewish brethren. I will issue 
such decrees as will effect the amelioration of then* condi- 
tion throughout the world. I will teach the principles of 
brotherly love to all the nations that are under my sway. 
Thus I^will become worthy of my origin as a Jew, I will 
benefit my brethren and besides that Avill I be useful to the 
world at large. See what an amount of good I can effect 
here ; but if I give up my position and turn Jew again, 
nothing more is effected than the addition of one brother 
to the Jewish community. Truly, I think, the happiness 
of thousands is worth more than one soul." 

"This plan, my son." answered the Rabbi shaking his 
head, '' is good enough inasmuch as it shows your appreci- 
ation of what is just and good. It exhibits the best qualities 
of your heart, but at the same time it shows also that you 
are ready to sacrifice yourself for the sake of your ambitiou 



RABBI ELCHANAN. 161 

to rule, and such a plan can not be the enlightenment of 
Ood. You want to retain your authority under false 
pretenses — that can not be the will of God. Yourself 
believing in one God you want to preach and effect good 
in the name of another belief, this can not be the will of 
God. Suppose even some good could be done by you, the 
end would never justify such means as you will employ. 
But even in this work you have reckoned without yom* host. 
There are a thousand eyes looking at you and a thousand 
envious minds to comment on every action of yours. Those 
who crawl at your feet now, will eagerly take advantage 
of everything that could become the cause of ruin to you 
in order to hurl you down from your height, and if you 
pursue such a course as you propose, they will soon find 
an opportunity to do so. To reform an institution which 
is based on principles that are so much in opposition to all 
dictates of human nature and human rights ; to reform a 
church which subjects its adherents by means of anathema, 
pyres and tortures, and which takes advantage of the 
credulity of unenlightened minds to execute its designs, 
is a work that must be left to God, who alone can effect 
wonders in the spirit of the times. One man cannot do 
it, and in the short lifetime of a man such cannot be done. 
Besides that, no man has a right to sacrifice the felicity of 
his soul for the sake of others. The soul is not your prop- 
erty ; it belongs to God. A man may give away his life 
for his principles, and that only when there is no other way 
to maintain them, but the soul, the centre of all good prin- 
ciples, the part of God himself, cannot and durst not be 
given away. If you return to the fold of Judaism the 
10* . 



162 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

gain is much more than a Jewish brother. Your unparal- 
leled example will be the guiding star of many a heart that 
otherwise might fail under oppression. The spirit of Ju- 
daism is to last forever, and your example will thus work for 
it forever and effect much more than your bulls can effect 
while you are living. We must hrst strengthen the ties of 
faith among ourselves and take care that the purity of our re- 
ligion be preserved for our offspring, before we think of influ- 
encing others with our principles. Let the trutli work for- 
itself, and do not try to help it on by means of falsehood, or 
enforce it by power. As for yourself, I am certain that if you 
once taste the cup of life with its true blessings, you will soon 
forget your present glory. The study of God's command- 
ments, the enjoyment of God's gifts, the fond attachment 
of loving friends, will more than replace all yom- outward 
dazzle. While here your plans may fail, your power may 
be taken from you, and then there will be nothing left to 
cheer your broken heart, to sustain your sunken soul." 

To this effect the Rabbi spoke in kind terms and very 
calmly. Victor listened very attentively and grew thought- 
ful. There was a violent struggle going on within the 
heart of the young man, the Rabbi understood it very 
well and allowed liim time to reflect. At last his better 
sentiments carried the victory in that struggle. His father's 
arguments were well understood and the truth was appre- 
ciated. Victor called out : ^^ El Chanaiinachlatlio henoam 
lehashpa)\' 2,\\^ threw himself sobbing on his lather's breast. 
Thus the crisis passed ofi* happily, the Pope resolved to 
assume his right name and follow the destination for which 
God had created him. 



RABBI ELCHANAN. 16 B 

" I follow you, father. Call me Elchaiiari ; that is my * 
right name. I will live and die with my people and for my 
people." 

" To-day a child was given mito me, to-day a son of Israel 
was born ; blessed be the Eternal, the God of Abraham, for- 
ever !" exclaimed the exultant father shedding tears of joy. 

Rabbi Simeon was dismissed by the Pope in the presence 
of all his courtiers, and left Rome on the following day. A 
fortnight later, Elchauan stole away from his magnificent 
palace. The young man who superseded thousands of am- 
bitious priests in office, who subjected the princes and nobles 
of the greatest portion of civilized humanity under his sway, 
at whose feet millions of people crawled in great humility, 
had thrown away all his glory for the sake of Judaism. In 
the stillness of a rainy night he left his palace, through a 
back door, to return to it no more. He left the Papal crown 
to become one of the multitude. And he did so with joy 
and delight. 

When on the following day the Pope did not appeal' 
before the court and the servants reported that he was not 
seen since last night, there arose a great confusion in the 
Eternal city. Some supposed that his enemies, the vassals 
of the German Emperor, had taken his life, others believed 
that the good and saintly young Pope had gone up to heaven 
in his earthly frame ; while Elchanan was journeying to 
Mayence with a joyful heart. 



164 GEKSONLS SKICTCHES. 



XIII. 



ELCHANAN. 

We will not presume to describe the joy which prevailed 
in Rabbi Simeon's house at the return of Elchanan. The 
rejoicing of a mother at the appearance of a beloved and 
long-bewailed child, the joy of brothers and sisters at the 
return of a brother whom they had long given up as lost 
forever, all this can only be felt but not depicted in words. 
As to Elchanan himself, the first day in the midst of his own 
he said : 

" Father, all that I have left behind me, and a thousand 
times more, is not worth one hour of to-day's happiness 
for me. I laugh at myself when I consider how foolish I 
was in giving you so much trouble before I was persuaded 
to come here." 

"As to happiness, I hope you will learn yet," rejoined 
the father, " how invaluable is a regulated and quiet life, 
and you will be happy indeed. Nevertheless you have not 
to undervalue the deed you have done. A thousand others 
could not have done it. The consciousness of the great 
sacrifice you have offered for Judaism will make you value 
it the more." 

From that day Elchanan devoted himself exclusively to 
the study of Jewish lore under {he guidance of his father. 
His eager mind found the greatest comfort in the rational 
xplanations on the philosophy of life and religion as ex- 
eounded in the sayings of the wise. In less than a year 
he succeeded so far in Talmudical knowledge that the title 



RABBI p:lch^nan. 165 

of Chaber, fellow of Talmudical science, was conferred upon 
him, and he upon whom all degrees of Christian lore were 
conferred while yet a youth, was overjoyed in his manhood 
at deserving this first degree of Jewish Scholarship. 

Elchanan's reappearance caused great commotion in the 
community ; all kinds of rumors were afloat, but the real 
truth was not known outside of his family circle, for Rabbi 
Simeon imposed the strictest secrecy in the matter. One 
day when Rabbi Elchanan was sitting with his father at 
his studies it happened that Meshulam, whose daughter 
Cardinal Felix had rescued, came in on some business to the 
old Rabbi. But as soon as he noticed the young Rabbi he 
looked aghast and could not say a word. Rabbi Simeon 
kindly asked him what was the matter. 

" Sir," said Meshulam to Rabbi Elchanan, " if I knew 
that it were not impossible, I would take you for a dis- 
tinguished gentleman to whom I am greatly indebted." 

" And how is your daughter Rachel f asked Elchanan 
smiling. 

" How, sir, is it possible that — " 

"It is my son, Elchanan," interrupted Rabbi Simeon^ 
in order to preclude any further explanation. But Meshu- 
lam could not be checked in such a manner. He insisted 
upon expressing his gratitude to Elchanan. He implored 
with teai's in his eyes that he may be permitted to bring 
his daughter that she may see her rescuer once more and 
personally thank him for what he had done for her. " For," 
be added, " my girl never ceased to speak of you since that 
time. She was a child of thirteen w^hen you rescued her 
from the castle of Rothenfels, she is eighteen years now,. 



166 G-EKSONl's SKETCHES. 

and the impression whicli your kindness has made upon lier 
is living in her memory as if it happened tliis very day. 
Her only desire is to see her redeemer once more. She is 
my only child and it is my comfort to gratify every reason- 
able desire of hers. Do it for my sake, do it for her sake, 
and allow me to bring her here once." Nothing could be 
done but to confide the family secret to Meshulam and his 
daughter : for Elchanan himself was also desirous of seeing 
the girl again. 

A few days afterward Meshulam with his daughter visited 
the house of Rabbi Simeon. Rachel, who was now in the 
presence of her benefactor, forgot all she intended to tell 
him ; she could not utter a word of gratitude or any thing- 
else. But, strange to say, Elchanan himself, who seemed 
to have granted the introduction only for the sake of grati- 
fying the desire of Meshulam, could not speak much in the 
presence of the blushing girl who stood before him. 

" Oh, papa, that is him !" said Rachel to her father when 
they entered the room, 

'* Here is my girl. Rabbi," said Meshulam. '• We have 
come to thank you for your great act of kindness." 

" If for that, you need not have taken all the trouble. 
Please don't mention it again." 

Meshulam then informed Rabbi Simeon that he was go- 
ing to settle down in Mayence, and the other expressed 
the hope that he would not keep himself a stranger in his 
house. At that moment Elchanan's mother came into the 
room. With a ti'ue feminine instinct she noticed the con- 
fusion of the young people, and when she heard how the 
Rabbi invited Meshulam to call often at the house she 
added : 



RABBI ELCHANAN. 167- 

" And Rachel, too, must come to see me olieii.'" 

" We feel very m,uch honored," said Meshulam. " Rachel, 
why clo you stand there like a goose 1 Cannot you thank 
the Rabbi and his wife '? I thought you would have so 
much to say to Rabbi Elchanan ; now you stand there like 
a fool." / 

" Do not scold her, Meshulam," inteiTupted the matron. 
"You gentlemen cannot understand our sex at all. The 
silent speech of the heart is better than the rattling of a 
thousand tongues. Never mind, Rachel, I hope we shall 
become the best of friends yet." 

Truly the best of friends they became, for not more than 
two months passed after Meshulam settled in Mayence when 
Rachel became the wife of Rabbi Elchanan. Meshulam 
lived only for his daughter and son-in-law, of whom he was 
justly proud because of his personal greatness as well as on 
account of his iiimily connections. Time passed on and 
Rabbi Elchanan was surrounded by a family of nice chil- 
di'en. When he pressed them to his bosom he could not 
avoid a smile on his past career wlien he was such a jealous 
advocate of celibacv. 



XIV. 

THE CROW^N OK GLORY. 



The political horizon was overcast with heavy clouds. 
Christianity and Islamism were airayed in furious hostility 
against one another, and thousands marched under the ban- 
ner of tlie cross to the East to conquer the Holy Land. The 



168 

jealous piety of the Crusaders, which finally assumed the 
form of insane rage, was next directed against the Jews. 
Without the least trouble, without the dangers and calami- 
ties of war, the pious warriors could kill and I'ob defenceless 
people. By an onslaught against the Jews, it was easy to> 
gratify the basest passions under the cloak of religion. An 
ignorant mob gathered under the leadership of misei-able 
knights, whose only desire was to gratify their avarice and 
thii-st for blood, and marched through the land like a sweep- 
ing pestilence. Dark reports of the cruelties of the Cru-# 
saders reached Mayence. Some German Jewish commu- 
nities had been slaughtered, others had been forced into 
submission, had forgotten their lionor and their duty and 
embraced Christianity. The Rabbi of Mayence was trem- 
bling for his flock. 

On a Saturday morning when the whole community 
congregated to j^erform the morning service, Rabbi Simeon 
ascended the pulpit and delivered a brief but stirring ad- 
dress. He was very old and feeble, griefabout the gloomy 
reports from abroad, and anxiety in regard to his own 
community still more weakened him, so that he could not 
speak very long. He only narrated the sad news that had 
reached him, and asked his congregation what they were 
determined to do when the p?stilence reached their vicinity. 
He reminded them that the community of Mayence wa& 
the oldest and most influential in Germany, and their ex- 
ample would be followed by all the other Jewish commu- 
nities. Will they forget God their Eternal Father in sight 
of death, which sooner or later must come, or will they 
stand up courageously against the foe, scorning death and 



HABrJl ELCHANAN. 



169 



tortures for the sake of their own souls and for the souls of 
a hundred Jewish communities whom they will encourage 
by their example ? There was not an eye within the sacred 
walls that did not shed tears at the Rabbi's discourse, and 
thei-e was not a heart within the breast of man or woman 
that did not resolve to offer life for religious principle. 
After the old Rabbi, Elchanan stood up in the pulpit, and 
addressed the congregation. 

" I am twelve years in your midst,'" said he, '• and I can 
say that it is only these twelve years that I have enjoyed 
life. Since my early childhood I have lived under other, 
apparently much better conditions, but life in reality was 
everlasting torture to me. It has been a family secret till 
now. but in the sight of approaching danger it is time that 
you should know it in order that you shall be able to real- 
ize what you have before you if you forsake God." Here 
he narrated all the events of his life to the astonished mul- 
titude. There was his father-in-law, who knew him as 
Cardinal Felix, and there were the two elders of the com- 
munity w^ho had been with Rabbi Simeon in Rome and 
had seen Elchanan on the Papal throne. These gentlemen 
he called to stand up as living witnesses in the sight of 
(rod and Israel. He absolved them publicly from their 
promise of secrecy, and they stood up and bore testimony 
t(^ the words of the speaker. At this statement there was 
a great commotion among the congregation, and when the 
hum of astonishment and admiration subsided a little, the 
sjjeaker continued : 

" If I, who never knew that I was a Jew, and who knew 
not much of Judaism, and had not the slightest idea of its 
1-1 



170 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

benign influence ; if I could not be happy in the fold of a 
strange religion, how can you ever expect to be happy if 
you renounce your God ! If the greatest splendor in the 
world that surrounded me could not make me contented, 
what will, what can make you contented in life ? O, I will 
suffer a thousand deaths rather than live another day in the 
tortures of such remorse as fastened upon me on the papal 
throne ! Such is my resolution in the sight of God and you 
all, and whoever is of the same sentiments with myself, let 
him stand up and we will jointy swear to remain faithful 
to our God the Eternal." 

" The whole congregation rose as one man ; the scrolls 
of the Law were taken from the arch, and a solemn oath 
was recited by Rabbi lilchanan and repeated fervently by 
all present. 

After a fervent prayei- had been offered by Rabbi Simeon, 
the whole community accompanied their spiritual guide 
home, singing aloud the famous hymn, " I am a nation 
strong as a bullwark in faith." 

The emotions which Rabbi Simeon had experienced on 
that Saturday morning were greater than his feeble frame 
could endure. He sickened that very day and died in 
peaceful resignation three days afterward. At his death- 
bed and his bier the solemn promise to remain faithful to 
God and to His holy Law was repeated by the community 
whose spiritual guide he had been for forty-five years and 
who clung to him with child-like affection. • 

Rabbi Elchanan was unanimously elected as his suc- 
cessor. 

Before the thirty days of mourning for Rabbi Simeon 



RABBI ELCHANAN. 171 

the Great were over a murderous band of Crusaders arrived 
at Mayence. All the Jews of that city were diiven out ou 
the square near the Synagogue, a pyre was lit in the mid- 
dle of the square and a thousand bloodthirsty villains 
formed a line around the doomed community that none 
should escape. The Knight of Rothenfels, who had turned 
a friend of papacy since he saw that he could satisfy his 
avarice under its sanction, was the leader of that band. 
He addressed Rabbi Elchanan, as the spiritual guide of the 
community, giving him the choice between embracing 
Christianity or dying in the flames. 

" Knight, Rothenfels," answered Rabbi Elchanan coolly, 
" we met once under different circumstances. Do you re- 
member Cardinal Felix and the destruction of your castle 
fourteen years ago *? Look at me and recognize the man 
who chastized you for your faithlessness and robbery 
You know that Cardinal Felix had became Pope Victor 
III, and absolved your transgressions. Look at me and 
recognize the man whose foot you have kissed with humil- 
iation and whom you have to thank for your liberty and 
life. I have given up all the papal glory for Judaism, the 
blessings of which I scarcely knew yet, and I am not going 
to give up what I prized more than a three-fold crown and 
the richest throne in the world, for the sake of a few years 
of miserable life. Let the coward do so whose life is ident- 
ical with his earthly possessions, and who has nothing to 
hope for in Eternity. I will die for my God and his holy 
commandment." 

The astonishment of the Knight can better be imagined 
than described, but in an instant his brutal passion took 



172 

the place of all other sentiments. He called to his fol- 
lowers : " Baptize or kill !" The Rabbi called to his own : 
•^^^ Pl"^ 1^ "Who is for the Lord, follow me!" and 
cheerfully ascended the steps of the pyre. His own rela- 
tives and the elders of the community who stood nearest 
to him followed him closely. " The Eternal, our God, is 
One in unity," was heard from amid the flames. "The 
Eternal, our God, is One in unity," echoed a thousand 
voices dying under the murderous weapons of the Cru- 
saders. Not one Jew of Mayence gave up his belief for 
his life ; the whole community died for the sake of theii- 
principle. 

Archbishop Ruthard and Count Emicho, under whose 
authority Knight Rothenfels acted, divided among them- 
selves the spoils of the maityrs ; but two years afterward 
the former was called to account for it betore Emperor 
Henry VI, and was banished for life. Of the whole band 
of Crusaders not a single man reached the pinnacle of his 
desire. They were all killed by the Hungarians, whose 
territory they wanted to cross. The flames of the pyre at 
Mayence caught also the Synagogue and the Jewish houses 
around and reduced them to ashes. That memorable place 
therefore bears the name " der Brand'' to the present day. 

END. 



l^HE FALL OF BETHAR AND THE MARTYRS, 



I. 



THE LAST STRUGGLE. 




HE insmrection of the Jews against the yoke 
of Lucius Quietus, was suppressed by the new 
Emperor of Rome, Hadrian, in the year 119, a.o. 
The tyrannical governor of Judea, Quietus, was 
called back to Rome, and Tinius Rufus succeeded him. 
A treaty of peace was concluded, the Jews laid down theii* 
arms, a promise being given to them that they would be 
allowed to rebuild the Temple of Jerusalem, and repair the 
ruins of the holy city. But although the appeased Jews 
tried to show every mark of honor and gratitude to the 
new Emperor, who seemed himself to have some kind of 
predilection for this people and their learned rabbis, these 
peaceful arrangements were of short duration, for the spir- 
it of the people was soon roused again by new aggrava- 
ting events. 

Hadrian, misled by the advice of Jewish enemies, and 
not being able to withdraw his promise altogether, gave 
orders that the temple should not be rebuilt on the same 
site where the former one stood, which showed plainly that 



174 

he did not intend to cany out his treaties of peace. The 
new governor of Judea also began to show his claws. The 
indignant Jews would have rebelled at once had it not been 
for the calming influence of Kabbi Jehoshua, who under- 
stood so well how to pacify his beloved nation by eloquent 
speeches and wise parables. But their confidence in the 
Roman government was gone, they became weary of being 
trifled with by the new Emperor, and were aggravated by 
fresh outrages of the governor, Tinius Rufus. A crisis was 
at hand. While Hadrian was on his way to Syria and 
Egypt they used the opportunity to prepare quietly against 
any new encroachments on the liberty of their conscience. 

The new star and leader of the Jewish warriors was the 
brave and inspu*ed youth Simeon Bar-Cochba.* Around 
him all the friends of liberty rallied in mass (about 400,000 
men). Arms and provisions were collected in subteiTanean 
places. This great work was performed with such precau- 
tion that the Roman government had not the least idea of 
what was going on, notwithstanding its great number of 
spies. In the meantime R. Jehoshua died, (about 131, a. 
c). Rabbi Akiba, his successor in the spu-itual leadership 
of the people, was full of youthful enthusiasm for the cause 
of liberty, and did all he could to encourage Bar-Cosiba 
and his warriors. 

The war broke out at last, and the Jewish troops took 
possession oi' tlie strong fortress of Bethar and a great 
many minor fortresses and cities, which were left to them 

♦ His real name was Bar-Cosiba, according to Gratz's history of 
the Jews, vol. IV, c. 8, called after his native city Gosiba. Two 
cities of the name were at that time in Judea. 



THE FALI- OF BETHAR AND THE MARTYRS. 175 

one after another by the cowardly Riifus ; he himself fled 
to Rome to inform tlie Emperor in person of the progress 
made by the Jews. Tlie revolutionists gained strength 
and courage with every new success, and in about two 
years they became masters of nearly the whole of their an 
cestral land. Hadrian watched with the greatest anxiety 
these startling events ; in vain did he send new reinforce- 
ments to the frontiers of the freed province ; his generals 
were beaten on the fields of Judea and his troops could not 
withstand the attack of the Jews. At last the Emperor 
called for his greatest general Julius Severus, Avho was at 
thai time in Britain, and sent him to Judea with an im- 
mense army of soldiers. We scarcely need mention here 
that during these two successful years of the reign of Bar- 
Oochba measures were taken for rebuilding the Temple at 
Jerusalem ; but it is worthy to be remarked that although 
, the Jews were embittered with relegious hatred against 
the Romans, it is nowhere mentioned that they treated 
cruelly their captives or any one of the JieatJien population 
of the conquered grounds. 

Julius Severus arrived at last and commenced his ope- 
rations against the Jews ; more than fifty battles were 
fought before the Romans surrouded the city of Bethar 
where the main force Of the Jews were concentrated. Sev- 
erus was too experienced a general not to know that he 
could accomplish nothing by giving a general battle to the 
religiously inspired Jewish army, flushed by success. He 
resolved, therefore, to worry and weaken them by skir- 
mishes and to starve them out. The siege of Bethar lasted 
about a year, and the besieged did not sufier much, for 



176 GERSOJil's SKETCHES. 

their eommunication with other cities was kept open by 
means of subteiTanean passages. They had no lack of pro- 
visions. The Roman general had already resolved to give 
up the campaign as hopeless, had it not been for the treach- 
ery of a Samaritan, who informed him of the secret pas- 
sages. At tlie same time Barcochba lost much prestige 
with his warriors by allowing himself to be provoked into 
maltreating the most beloved spiritual guide of the doomed 
city, the pious Rabbi Eliazar of Modin. 

The Roman soldiers penetrated the city by means of the 
betrayed passages, and a fearful slaughter began, which 
ended with the whole destruction of the city. Bar-Cochba 
fell, and with him Bethar. The conqueror having found 
among the dead his corpse with a serpent gnawing at it, 
exclaimed : " If God had not slain thee, by the hands of 
men thou couldst never have fallen !" 

After the fall of Bethar there remained but little work, 
to be done in Judea. It is true, the Jews did not lay 
down their arms. Conscious that nothing was to be hoped 
from the mercy of the victors, they defended heroically 
every city which they had gained, and the whole Jewish 
nation, as Gratz expresses it, lay on the grounds of then- 
ancestral land like a vast body exposed to slaughter. 

The loss of the Romans was immense ; Hadrian reports 
ing to the Senate the result of the battle, did not dare to 
use the usual sentence : " Myself and the troops are in a 
good condition ;" he spoke only of himself, nor did he re- 
ceive the marks of honor which were given to the empe- 
rors after a successful campaign. But what availed this to 
the Jews ? They were utterly crushed, and Hadrian de- 



THE FALL OF BETHAR AND THE MARTYRS. 177 

vised the severest measures, in order to prostrate them 
completely, and to extinguish the last spark of chivalry 
that might have been left in them. Few, very few Jewish 
warriors saved themselves, some escaped to Arabia Felix, 
some to Babylon ; the others were either slain by thousands 
or died of starvation in subterranean holes and coverts. 
The carnage and horror of that war were the gi-eatest ever 
known in Jewish history, and in commemoration of the 
Polemos acharon (last insurrection), the synagogue abol- 
ished the ceremony of carrying the bride on a velvet couch 
to the house of her bridegroom, which was the custom 
until that time. 



II. 



HADRIAN AND THE JEWS. 



After the fall of Bethar, which happened on the fatal 9th 
of Ab, 135 A. c, Hadrian considered every Jew his personal 
tinemy, and devised every form of cruelty and oppression 
to tyrannize this unhappy race, both mentally and physical- 
ly. The last three years of his reign are known in Jewish 
history as the time of Sakanah (danger) and Geserah 
(tyranny). 

The coward Tinius Rufus, who did not dare to face the 

Jews in arms, was again appointed governor of Judea, and 

governed the Jews and then* land with an iron grasp. The 

city of Jerusalem was rebuilt and consecrated as a heathen 

11* 



Its 

town, with the name Aelia Capitolina, so that even her 
former name (sacred to the Jews) should no longer exist. 
She was populated with invalid Roman soldiers, Phoenicians 
and Syrians, as a Roman colony. On the place where the 
temple formerly stood, there were erected statues of Had- 
rian and of Jupiter Capitolinus, and other images of abom- 
ination w^ere placed in different parts of the city and through- 
out the Holy Land. All this was done for the purpose of 
rooting out from the heart of the Jews every feeling of re- 
spect and love for their ancestral land, so that a Jew should 
never think of the sacred ground without horror while he 
imagined all the detestable things which were seen there. 
But this plan worked quite differently on the faithful Jew- 
ish heart. They considered, all these circumstances as a 
punishment for their sins and never ceased to love what 
was once declared holy. 

The following statement gives a clear idea of the indi- 
vidual treatment of the Jews by Hadrian : 

" A Jew met the emperor in the street and saluted him ; 
Hadrian ordered the courteous Jew to be beheaded, because 
he dared to trouble his majesty with his politeness. Shortly 
afterward, another Jew met him and did not salute him ; 
he was also ordered to be killed for his indifference. The. 
council, asking the emperor the reason of two such contra- 
dictory actions, received the answer : ' Will you dictate to 
me how I am to revenge myself on my enemies !' " 

Special notice was taken by the oppressors of all the 
religious observances of the Jews. A decree was issued 
prohibiting the observance of the Sabbath day, the cere- 
mony of circumcision, marriage, the study of the law and 



THE FALL OF BETHAR AND THE MARTYRS. 179* 

iristallment of rabbis, under penalty of death. Hadrian, 
says Gratz, imitated the policy of Antiochus Epiphanes, 
forcing the Jews to reject their faith and to accept pagan- 
ism instead. The only difterence between the two was, 
that the former tried to deprive them of their religious ob- 
servances, thinking that their conversion to paganism would 
fellow as a consequence ; while the latter actually forced 
them to worship his idols. 

The emperor issued such decrees, and Rufus, who, it is- 
said, was well versed in the Jewish law, knew how to en- 
force them. They were well aware that as long as there 
were religious institutions among the Jews, there was a 
chord which united their hearts and minds, and that they 
would avoid no means for promulgating tlieir ideas and 
gathering strength and sympathy. 

So the Jewish race lay prostrate under the tyranny of 
their enemies ; and such were the means devised to exter- 
minate their lofty ideas of God, truth and morality, lest 
they should take root in the hearts of others. But with 
all these measm-es the enemies of light did not succeed in 
suppressing its beneficial influence. Israel received the 
promise : " No weapon that is formed against thee shall 
prosper ; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in 
judgment tliou shalt condemn," and it was kept to them 
until the present time. The great truths which were in 
trusted to them on Mount Sinai were destined to become 
the light of all nations in spite of all cruel efforts to extin- 
guish them. But the Jews also were true to their trust, and 
it was only Israel's resolute mind which could retain the 
sacred mission under such circumstances. 



180 

How sublime were the words of Moses when pleading 
the cause of his people before God : " Lord, I pray thee, 
go among us ; for it is a stiff-necked people ; and pardon 
our iniquity and our sin, and take us for Thine inheritance," 
thus giving the stift-neckedness as a reason why Israel was 
worthy to become the people of the Lord. 

The Roman spies were very vigilant in watching the 
Jews in theu* religious performances. " When they heard 
the noise of a hand-mill they suspected the preparation of 
wood-powder for the purpose of circumcision ; when they 
saw lights in a Jewish house they thought that a marriage 
ceremony was being performed." But the Jewish doctors 
found an apportunity to couv^e a Sanhedrim, and to confer 
about the cardinal principles of the law. It was in agaiTet 
roominNithsa, a small town in Lydda, where R. Tarphon, 
R. Akiba, R. Jossi, of Galilee, and other rabbis assembled, 
and passed resolutions to the following effect: 

" Whereas, the study of the Torah brings about a prac- 
tical performance of its injunctions, and every religious per- 
formance endangers the life of a Jew, therefore resolved, 
that studying the law is of more importance than its practical 
performance, and that all its precepts may be disregarded 
where there is danger of life ; except idolatry, murder, and 
adultery, which an Israelite should not commit, even if he 
is put to death for abstaining from them." 

Such were the cardinal principles unanimously adopted 
and adhered to in that time, and we may glory in them in 
our enlightened age. The rabbis of that convention suf- 
fered martyrdom shortly afterward, of which we are now 
to speak. 



THE FALL OF BETHAR AND THE MARTYRS. 181 



III. 



THE MARTYKS. 

Considering the iDcidents narrated in the two former 
chapters, it will be no wonder that the rabbis who attended 
the convention were looked after very closely. They 
were not caught at the synod, for they assembled in a 
quiet and hidden place ; but there were spies * enough to 
ascertain the fact that such an assemblage had taken place, 
and who the persons were tliat had taken part in it. So an 
ancient tradition tells us of ten martyrs who bled for their 

* Dr. Gratz counts Achar (Elisha-ben-Abujah,) among the Roman 
spies, of which I cannot see the probability. Besides the charac- 
teristics of that man, which do not agree at all with such an hypoth- 
esis, and from all the stories told about him, it seems that he 
played his role of a regenade after the death of Hadrian, when there 
was no opportunity for him to be a spy. ' ' R. Mayir left his seat 
in the pulpit when he was told by his deciples that Elisha was pass- 
ing by," (Medrash Koheleth). Now R. Mayir had no seat in the 
pulpit and no deciples at that time, for he was ordained by R. Jehu- 
dah-ben-Baba, one of the last mayrtrs. Besides, how was it possible 
to think of a public place of worship when every religious perform- 
ance was punished \Ndth death ? — Even the same Hagadah ( Jer. 
Chagiga) of which Dr. Gratz cites an instance, speaks of a public 
place of studying the law, where Achar came and said that the dis- 
ciples should rather do some business than study the law (which 
we think is the meaning of niy^tDJ3 f^^pO His speaking against 
their carrying loads on a Sabbath under various pretexts is only 
mentioned as one of his arguments against their doings but not 
as information to the government. 



182 GERSONl's BKETCHES. 

adherence to the principles of their creed. This sad event 
was lamented in glowing terms by the old authors ; but in 
the Hagadas of the Talmud, both Babli and Jerusalmy, 
there cannot be found a reliable historical account as to 
who they were or at w^hat time they sustained their doom. 

We shall give here a short account of those who are 
proven beyond a doubt to have lived at that time. 

The two first were R. Ishmael ben Elishah and R. Simon, 
of the royal family of David.* They both were to suffer 
death at one time. It is touching to read how,^each of 
sthem wanted to die first, so that he should not see the 
death of his brother ; R. Ishmael honoring his fellow- 
martyr for his royal aristocracy, and R. Simeon responding 
to it by honoring the other one as the high priest. They 
comforted each other while under torture. R. Akiba de- 
livered an oration on their death ; soon afterward his own 
turn came to die by the hand of the tyrant. R. Akiba 
was taken to prison for preaching the law to an assembly 
of his co-religionists. It seems that he was held there a 

* Concerning the person of Rabbi Ishmael the historians are not 
certain who he was, because the tradition called him a high priest, 
?ind there was no high priest of that name since the destruction of 
the temple. That was also the reason why some were of opinion 
that Er. Simeon, who suffered myi'trdom with him, was E,. Simeon, 
the Patriarch, and this occured at an earlier period. But we are 
inclined to think that E. Ishmael was nominated high priest by Bar 
Cosiba, who began to rebuild the temple in his reign, and retained 
the title though he never officiated as such. It was then the same 
R. Ishmael who was released from prison by Jehoshuaben Chanauiah 
for a great sum of money (see Bab. Gettin, fol. .58 and Midrash 
Taanith.), who was of the family of priests. 



THE FALL OF BETHAK AND THE MARTYRS. 183 

very long time, and Rufus. who well knew his influence 
and authority among the Jews, took special care that his 
prisoner should be guarded very strictly, so that nobody 
should come to see him. 

The rabbis, who wanted his decisions on religious 
-questions, invented a curious way of communicating with 
him. They disguised themselves as peddlers, and passing 
the prison, called: "Who buys needles? Who buys 
forks ? What about the law of dispensation for marrying 
the late brother's wife ?" and the prisoner understood the 
hint and gave his decision in a like manner. 

A certain Rufus bar Tuda warned the rabbi that he had 
better give up preaching, because of the wacthfulness of 
the Roman spies, and received the following answer : " A 
fox once said to a fish, ' You are in so great danger in the 
waters, because of the nets spread by man ; better come out 
to the shore where there is no such danger for you.' 'No,' 
answered the fish, ' if we are not safe in our own element, 
. how greater a risk should we run in an element foreign to 
us f The Torah," continued the rabbi, " is our element, 
and there is much more danger for us if we abandon it 
than if we adhere to it." 

The hour for martyrdom finally came for this great man, 
who had been such a strong pillar to the synagogue, and 
whose life had been so active and useful. The tyrant 
Rufus ordered his skin to be torn off with currycombs, 
and in this fearful agony the martyr preserved a joyful 
mien, and repeated his prayers. The tyrant observing his 
smiling countenance, asked him whether he was not a sor- 
<;erer. "No," answered the martyr, "I am only glad that 



184 

I have the chance to serve my God with my life, while till 
now I served Him only with my might." His soul depart- 
ed while his lips pronounced (God is) "■ One." His col- 
leagues lamented him : " With his death was broken the 
arm of the law, and the spring of wisdom became di-y." 

R. Chanina ben Teradion died for the same crime as R. 
Akiba ; he was caught studying the law, and when he was 
asked why he disregarded the decrees of the emperor, he 
answered simply : It is the orders of my God I am obeying." 
In his death he gave the most glorious lessons of belief in 
the holiness of the law and in the immortality of the soul. 
Before his execution, he suffered the anguish of seeing his 
wife killed and his two daughters outraged. Then he was 
wrapped in the roll which he studied, and put on a pyre of 
fresh ivy branches ; a w^et sponge was placed on his breast 
in order that his sufferings should not soon end. His 
daughter exclaimed : " Father, must I see you in such a 
state f' And he answered: "Do not be so grieved; if I 
was burned alone it would perhaps be grievous, but now a 
scroll of the law is burned with me ; God, who is certain 
to avenge the abuse of His holy Torah, w411 avenge me 
also." To the crowd of disciples who witnessed the fear- 
ful drama, he said amid his tortures : "I see the parchment 
consuming in the flame and the letters flying up to heaven." 
The executioner being affected by the sight, told him to 
take from his heart the wet sponge that he should die 
sooner ; but the rabbi refused to do so, saying : " The One 
who gave me the soul may take it whenever it pleases 
Him, I have no right to hasten the time by a single second." 



THE FALL OF BETHAR AND THE MAKTYKS. 185 

The executioner took the spouge from his heart and sprang 
into the flames and was burned with the rabbi. 

After the death of these rabbis, the synagogue was in a 
very bad condition for want of leading men, and Rabbi 
Jehuda ben Baba resolved to ordain five of the best dis- 
ciples. He selectd a desert valley far from town where he 
would perform the ceremony in secret. But he was found 
out by the Romans, and the enemy came to the spot just 
when the ceremony was over. R. Jehuda seeing them 
come, persuaded the newly-ordained rabbis to fly. He 
showed them that they could not save him if they re- 
mained, and how great a loss it would be for the synagogue 
if they died with him. To their remonstrance that they 
would not desert liim in such danger, he said : •' I am like 
a heavy stone which cannot be turned," thus giving them 
in a few words to understand that he was firm enough to 
die tor his religion, and that he was too old to be of such 
great use to the sj^nagogue as they. They fled, and the 
labbi was pierced by Roman spears. 

It would be too much for the feelings of our readers if 
we should describe tlie history of all the other martyrs 
mentioned in the Talmud. The few examples we have 
given will suflice to remind them how gloriously our ances- 
tors could die for their convictions, and how, in their 
agonies, they gave the most wholesome instructions in the 
highest moral principles. 

The dreadful time lasted till the death of Hadrian. His 
successor, Titus Antonius Pius, repealed the tyrant's decrees 
and a new generation of Tanaim arose for the mainten- 
ance of om- eternal creed. 
12 



THE CONVERTED NOBLEMEN. 



A HISTORICAL NARRATIVE. 




THE PEAR-TREE IN THE OLD GRAVEYARD. 

N my eai'ly childhood I had a strong liking for 
lonely rambles. I never felt so happy as when I 
could roam about for a few hours undisturbed, 
musing and building " castles in the air." My 
native city, Wilna, being situated in a most picturesque 
valley, and surrounded by hills, forests, meadows andrivu 
lets, offers the best advantages for such enjoyments as I 
liked. When Kapoleon I passed this place on his fatal 
march into the interior of Russia, he was struck with its 
beauty, and declared that he had never seen a spot to com- 
pare with it. The dreamy forests, the mysterious glens, 
the gay, flower-strewn meadows, and the murmuring ciystal 
springs on every side, form a wonderful variety of sceneiy 
to satisfy the most extravagant imagination. 

The spot I liked best was the new graveyard, which is 



188 



laid out on a hill overlooking a magnificent landscape. I 
could roam about there for hours, or sit on a favorite hil- 
lock, calling into life a thousand familiar biblical scenes. 
The Bible was then the whole storehouse of poetical or his 
torical imagery to which I had access. The Willeyka, a 
small river flowing at some distance from the burial-ground, 
would appear to me the river Kebar, at which I in imag- 
ination saw the prophet Ezekiel standing in solemn dignity 
and recalling unto life " the dried bones that filled the 
valley." Or I would imagine seeing a multitude of work 
ingmen cutting the woods of Lebanon^ and others erecting 
the Temple of Jerusalem^ or the prophet Elijah sitting on 
Mount Carmel; all these biblical names actually belonging 
to localities which were visible in the hazy distance from 
the new graveyard. I cannot describe the felicitous emo- 
tions wliich these visions aroused in me, and how happy I 
felt in the midst of the life which my imagination had 
created around me. 

My parents did not like the manner in which I passed 
my time. My frequent visits to the graveyard caused 
them special anxiety, partly because it was at a consider- 
able distance from our house, and partly on account of a 
superstitious belief that evil spirits have their abode in 
graveyards and may become dangerous to those who are 
not on their guard. But my father who did not believe 
in using strong measures to enforce injunctions or pro- 
hibitions upon his children, undertook to counteract my 
foolish fancies in his own mild way. Whenever I was al- 
lowed a few hours of recreation or a holiday, in which he 
knew I would invariably betake myself to my lonely ram- 



THE CONVERTED NOBLEMEN. 189 

bles, he would ask me whither I proposed to go and whether 
I had any objection to his company. I was always glad to 
be in the society of my aged father, for he was very indul- 
gent and sociable. He understood how to direct my 
extravagent whims with suggestions which never appeared 
like commands, and were therefore Avillingly followed. In 
this manner he became my constant companion on my 
solitary walks, and beside all evil consequences of my pe- 
culiar inclination being averted by his paternal care, the 
time on such expeditions was utilized by him for develop- 
ing my mind with instructive narratives. • 

One summer's afternoon he offered to take me to the 
old graveyard, where I had never been l)efore. On our 
way thither he told me that the French army stopping in 
Wilna in the year 1812, had encamped aTound those con- 
secrated grounds and had destroyed many graves and 
sacred memorials. Since that calamity, only a small 
portion of the grounds had been owned by the Jewish 
community, a few tombstones in memory of great schol- 
ars still standing there in a tolerably good state of pres- 
ervation. The site of the new churchyard had been 
purchased for a burial-ground. 

Arriving at the old graveyard my father showed me 
the graves and read and explained to me the epitaphs on 
the tombstones. While he was telling me the history of 
some great men whose gi'ave we had visited we reached a 
pear tree which stood on a hillock near by. Six or seven 
boys were playing there, throwing stones at the tree to 
bring down the ripening pears. My father called to them 
to stop, remarking : " The tree is too sacred a memorial 



190 

to be spoiled by Jewish boys." His dignified appearance 
and kind addi*ess caused them to obey him ; and when I 
asked hun to tell rae the story of the tree, the boys joined 
in the request. The kind, old man sat down upon the 
grass, I at his feet, and the boys reclining around us, lis- 
tened with eager attention to the story of the converted 
noblemen, which I propose to tell you in the following 
pages. 



II. 

THE LITHUANIAN JERUSALEM. 

The natural advantages of the region suiTounding "Wilna 
with regard to fertility of soil and abundance of sweety 
spring-water, and the picturesque landscapes that inframe 
the city itself have suggested for Wilna the appellation of 
"the Lithuanian Jerusalem." The Israelites of that and 
adjacent regions had more reason yet to acknowledge its . 
claim to that title. Wilna has been the seat of Jewish 
wisdom and learning ever since it was built up by the Li- 
thuanian prince Giedymin, in the year 1382. Notwithstand- 
ing its comparatively young existence, the list of the great 
men who have arisen in the Jewish community of Wilna, 
can hardly be equaled by that of any other city in Em'ope. 
The Lithuanians have been an idolatrous, but an hospitable 
and liberal- minded people. The constitutions of that country 
allowed liberty of conscience to all, and therefore Israelites, 
Huguenots, Greek-Catholics and confessors of other creeds 



THE CONVERTED NOBLEMEN. 191 

who suffered from the u'on rod of Papacy, sought a refuge 
in this corner of Europe. Thus Wilna, the capital of Li- 
thuania, became the gathering place of many great minds, 
especially of the Jews, from all parts of Europe. 

When Jagiello, a Lithuanian prince, became king of 
Poland, the Christian religion (namely, Roman Catholicism) 
was introduced in Lithuania. This effected much its broad 
liberal character ; but it continued yet for some time to be 
the most liberal country in Em'ope, partly because the 
character of the Lithuanians could not be changed at once 
Avith the adoption of the new creed, and partly because 
Papacy had yet to take deep root in that soil before it 
could bear its " soul-saving " fruits. The Jewish community 
of Wilna had in the meantime become one of the greatest 
in Europe, and having produced many gi-eat men, it com- 
manded the respect and gained the adherence of all sister 
communities. 

In the year 154:7, Henry d'Anjou — of the de-Valois 
fjimily — who distinguished himself in the battles of Jarnac 
and ^lontcontour against the Huguenots, was called upon 
to become king of Poland and prince of Lithuania. A 
swarm of Jesuits came into these countries with him and 
established there theii- institutions. He treacherously de- 
serted the throne of Poland, Avhen his brother Charles IX 
of France died. He stole away from Crakow, then the 
capital of Poland, to Paris, where he succeeded to his 
brother's throne and assumed the name of Henry III, of 
France. But he left a legacy to the country he deserted 
for which its history Avill condemn his memory forever. 
A branch of the Jesuitical order became established in 



192 

Poland and Lithuania, which has become the ruin of these 
countries. 

As soon as the Jesuits succeeded in sneaking into the 
favor and confidence of the freemen (called Schllache-ztioo) 
they commenced to mitate them against all those who did 
not confess the Roman religion, especially against the Jews. 
In the time of Stephen Batory, the successer of d'Anjou, 
the freemen had already began to protest against the privi- 
leges enjoyed by the Jews of Wilna. Their protestation 
assumed a more formidable character in the time of Sig- 
mund Vasa III, and broke out into the most violent per- 
secution of Lutherans, Cahinists, Greek-Catholics, and 
Jews. At last they succeeded in having the privileges of 
those religious sects limited to a considerable extent. 

Encouraged by this success, the freemen undertook to 
carry their plan outside the limits of their own land. They 
presumed to encroach upon the liberties of the Cossacks, a 
neighboring Slavonic tribe of a savage and freedom-loving 
character, and confessors of the Greek-Catholic creed. 
This was the actual cause of the ravages and devastations 
which the ferocious Haydamacks (Cossacks) have committed 
in Ucraina, Lithuania and Poland under the leadership of 
Bagdan Chmielnizky. Enraged against their oppressors, 
these savages swept through the whole region twice (in the 
years 1648 and 1655) leaving in their track blood and ruin. 
Not discerning between friend and foe, but slaughtering 
and burning all that came in their way, the Haydamacks 
committed the greatest outrages also against our co-re- 
ligionists. The rememberance of these events is inscribed 
with blood on the pages of our history under the name of 



THE CONVEKTED NOBLEMEN. 193 

V'Oni T]'"r\ rnU- The city of WHna was spared from 
the first attack of the Cossacks : but not so from then* second 
attack on the unfortunate regions of Poland and Lithuania. 

The Jewish community of Wilna continued in its spirit- 
ual greatness, notwithstanding all the oppressions it had 
endured, and all the losses it had suffered from internal . 
and external calamities. 

But the social position of the Lithuanian and Polish 
Israelites were gradually reduced until, in the year 1742, 
the freemen of Wilna succeeded in wi'esting from the gov- 
ernment a most oppressing decree against the Jews. It 
was about that time that the Fountain and Guardian of 
truth was please\i to show by a most wonderful miracle, 
that " His word stands forever." 



HI. 

rOTOZKY AND ZKIEMBY. 

PoTOZKY and Zriemby were among the highest nobilities 
of those countries. Count Potozky was an elderly Polish 
nobleman, the owner of vast estates in the suburbs of 
Wilna. He was a great enemy of the Jews and was the 
first in the council of noblemen who signed the petition of 
the freemen concerning the limitation of the privileges en- 
joyed by the Jews. Zriemby was of an old Lithuanian 
family, the Hettman, or governor-general of the district of 
Bialostoky, on the borders of Volhynia. He was a friend 
12* 



194 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

of the Jews and — report says — had an intimate friend, an 
Israelite, who came to his manor very often and spent a 
gi-eat deal of time with the kind old Hettman, narrating to 
him Jewish stories and legends. 

Dming the century which had elapsed since the time 
that it was swept over by the Haydamacks until the time 
we are treating of, Lithuania had recovered from the effects 
of the invasion. Wilna had again become the favored seat 
of the nobles of both countries, and nominally it was still 
the capital of Lithuania, although vutually the last was no 
longer an independent kingdom, as it had been before. 
There was a very flourishing University in Wilna, which 
counted among its students two noblemen, the sons of Po- 
tozky and Zriemby, who were fast friends. Of these two 
young men, the former had his inherited prejudices against 
and the latter predilections for the Jews. The Jewish ques 
tion had fi'equently been the subject of discussion between 
them, and Potozky's prejudices very often gave way to the 
milder judgment of his friend. But a^ he had no dkect 
communication with any Jew, such controversies for a time 
had no further consequences. One summer's afternoon 
Potozky, while on a stroll in the forest of Lebanon, met a 
middle-aged Israelite who appeared sunk in deep meditation. 
He jokingly accosted him : 

" I say, Jew, what are you thinking about ? I will lay a 
wager that you are scheming some plan for deceiving a 
Christian." 

" I should not be worthy of being called a Jew were my 
mind occupied with such thoughts," replied the Hebrew. 



THE CONVERTED NOBLEMEN. 195 

" I am a student of the Holy Law, which enjoins upright- 
ness and kindness to aH." 

" Nicely spoken, my man," resumed Potozky ; " but I 
am too sly a bird to be caught in such a snare. Does not 
your Law enjoin hatred for your enemies, and do you not 
regard as such all those who do not believe in your creed?" 

'• The Law of God knows no hatred or animosity ; it 
teaches us to be kind even to our enemies, be they Jews or 
not Jews." 

" And pray tell me, on what grounds does it make such 
injunctions ? It is a dogma which I never expected to hear 
from a Jew." 

*' Our Holy Law teaches that the soul of man is immortal ; 
that the felicity of the future is beyond the comprehension 
of mortals, and the happiness of this life is very insig- 
nificant in comparison with it. How, would a million- 
aire hate a person who lias robbed him of a few pennies ? 
Believing thus in immortality, we cannot hate those who 
wrong us in this life." * 

The young nobleman became thoughtful. His mind was 



*This was exactly the sentiment expressed by Kabbi Menaehem 
Man before he expired. He was an intimate friend of K. Abraham- 
ben-Abraham, born Count Potozky, and suffered martyrdom on the 
17th of Ab in the same year, with his noble friend and fellow-mar- 
tyr, the convert. The history of that great man is recorded in the 
book rniri" n*a niDj; and mentioned by S. I. Fin, in his work nnp 
^JD^<J on the History of Wilna. The last mentioned in brief also 
the convert Potozky ; he could not give any lengthy account of the 
history of his conversion, probably on account of the Censor of Rus- 
sia, where his work has been printed. 



196 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

sufficiently developed to understand the strength of the 
argument. 

" So, you consider yourself much above us," he said mus- 
ingly. 

" Not at all, my lord. We are all human beings, with 
body and soul. What makes one great cannot be the de 
gi-adation of another. The paths of truth, justice and 
righteousness are open to all men alike." 

Potozky was quite astonished to hear a Jew proclaiming 
principles of which " the only soul-saving church," under 
the tuition of which he had been brought up, never gave 
him an idea. His kind heart and really noble mind ap- 
proved of these principles. 

" Go your way, my friend," he kindly addressed the 
Jew, " and excuse me for having detained you. If your 
thoughts are really running on such topics, I am sorry for 
the rude manner in which I accosted you." 

" Never mind, my lord," said the Hebrew with peculiai* 
emphasis, " my time has not been lost. I have sown the 
seed of truth which, by the help of God, will bear good 
fruit. Your heart and mind are much better than your 
manners, but for the last you are not to blame. God bless 
you." 

A few moments afterward, Potozky met his friend. 

" I say, Zriemby, I am inclined to think that you are 
right alter all in taking the part of the Jews. I have just 
spoken to one of them and he made a gi'eat impression on 
me. There was a peculiar kind of dignity and loftiness 
^bout him.^' 

Since this interview with the Israelite, Potozky felt dis- 



THE CONVERTED NOBLEMEN. 19T 

satisfied with the moral teachings he had received fi'om his 
spiritual guides. The few words he had heard from the 
Jew were more in accordance with the dictates of his con- 
science, with his position as a nobleman — a noble man, as 
he analyzed the word — and with the sympathies of his heart 
than all the morals he had ever heard from his religious 
teachers. He sometimes reproached himself for not having- 
requested the Jew to explain to him his principles more 
fiilly. His eager mind wanted to understand them better 
and to learn how to reconcile them with practical life. He 
oflen deliberated with Zriemby on this subject, and the 
two friends made up their minds to learn something more 
of Judaism as soon as they could. 

Some time afterward the two friends had accomplished 
their course of studies in the University of Wilna and were 
sent to Paris to obtain a higher degree of education and a 
knowledge of the world. 



III. 

THE STUDY OF JUDAISM. 

At the time when the fate of the Israelites assumed such 
a gloomy aspect in the Slavonian countries, the light of 
their philosophy began to send forth its rays among all 
nations of Europe. Holland had been a refuge place for 
the Jews since the time of William of Orange. The 
German scholars have taken a gi-eat interest in Hebrew 



198 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

literature since the time of Reuchlin, the forerunper of 
Luther. Whatever the object of such scholars may have 
been in penetrating the vast domains of Hebrew lore, the 
result was — as it naturally must have been — that the more 
the ideas of om- sages became diffused, the more did all 
prejudice vanish. In France there existed about that time 
the great Bible critic Richard Simon, whose genuine 
scholarly researches led him to concieve a very favorable 
opinion of Jews and of their religious philosophy. He 
uttered his ideas in his works: Histoire critique du, 
Vieux testament, which became popular in a very short 
time and contributed much toward dispelling the preju- 
dices against the Jews. When Potozky and Zriemby 
arrived at Paris the significance of Judaism and its litera- 
ture was discussed in all circles of society. Many promi- 
nent scholars had Rabbis to instruct them in Hebrew 
literature. Om* heroes had ample opportunity to hear 
much about the subject which interested them so greatly. 

Promenading in a garden they once noticed an old 
Hebrew sitting in the shadow of a tree with an open vol- 
ume before him. He was so absorbed in its contents, that 
he gesticulated and read aloud, forgetting that he was in a 
public place. The two young nobles seated themselves 
near him, awaiting an opportunity to draw him into a 
conversation. 

"May I ask you what kind of book you have here?" 
said Potozky as soon as the Israelite raised his eyes from 
his volume. 

" It is a work of one of our philosophers," answered the 
Hebrew. " I have been trying for a long time to procure 



THE CONVERTED NOBLEMEN. 199 

it, and to-day I received it from a friend at Amsterdam." 

" Would you please tell me what is the purport of this 
work, and by whom it was wiitten ?" 

*' The book is called ' A Guide for the Erring ;' its ob- 
ject is to expound the system of Judaism in its true rational 
sense ; its author was our illustrious Maimonides." 

" But can a religious system be expounded ' in a truly 
rational sense V It seems that the very word religion j 
which implies the idea of faith, requires its adherent to 
believe ichat can not be understood.'' 

The old man looked up with astonishment at his youth- 
ful inteiTogator. He had regarded his questions as prompt- 
ed merely by curiosity ; but now he saw that there was 
much more than that. Reflecting for a moment, he an- 
swered slowly. 

" I do not know what the word ' religion ' may imply. 
The system of Judaism is not based on ' believing what 
can not be understood.' The Hebrew tongue has no word 
for ' faith ' in the sense in whicli it is generally understood. 
Trust, confidence, reliance in God, is all that our religion 
— if you choose to call it so — enjoins. It demonstrates by 
rational argument that there is a God ; and when this truth 
is once embraced all other injunctions follow as logical 
consequences, and caimot be gainsayed." 

" Excuse me. my friend," said Zriemby, " but I think 
that your definition is not altogether correct. You will 
admit that the Bible is the basis of your religious system. 
Now, can you underst;ind also the miracles that are re- 
corded in that book 1 If you believe them, then rational 
argument is superfluous, and if you doubt them you ac- 



200 



knowledge a fallacy in the basis which brings the whole 
system to the ground," 

"My young friend," rejoined the Israelite with a signi- 
ficant smile, "I am pleased to see from your argument 
that you are pondering much on these subjects. You are 
searching for truth and you shall find it. With regard to 
your last question, I can tell you only that all the miracles 
recorded in the Old Testament had their local or personal 
significance. The persons for whose benefit they were 
performed never denied them, and we have no reason to 
comment on their truth or untruth. None of our religious 
principles are based on the truth of a miracle, consequently 
the miracles are out of the question when our religious 
system is discussed. When you read the Bible discerning 
between record and mjunction, individuality and generality, 
and above all considering tune, character and locality, you 
will understand it better than reading it as though it were 
a book written for you alone and appealing directly to 
you. I can not speak to you any further on this topic, 
you will therefore excuse me. Now I must bid you 
Good-bye." 

The young men extracted from the Israelite a promise 
that he would come to see them. Some time afterward 
they engaged him to instruct them in the Hebrew tongue 
and philosophy. They gTadually gained his confidence, 
so that he expounded to them his theories without reserve, 
and opened to them a new field of thought. 

Hitherto they had been taught a religious system which 
is based on the supernatural ; and as such a foundation can 
not have any hold on a searching mind, the theories and 



THE CONVERTED NOBLEMEN. 201 

principles which are constructed upon it must naturally fall 
to the ground. If, on the other hand, the mind of the ad- 
herent is unable to think for itself, and adopts the belief in 
supernatural things without research, its religious concep- 
tions must degenerate into a passion which becomes as 
dangerous to others as it is disadvantageous to liimself. 
The believer embraces the idea that the will of his Creator 
is in constant conflict with the physical nature of man. 
He then regards the' world around him as a natural enemy 
to liis better self — to his soul. Aye, even his own instinct- 
ive desu'e for such things as are necessary foi- the main- 
tenance of life, is " the snares of the devil " to entangle 
his soul. He must deny himself tor the sake of his Crea- 
tor ; lie must " cast away the body for the sake of the soul." 
But with all the privation which he inflicts on himself, he 
must yet enjoy something of the world in order to main- 
tain life. He is a sinner after all, and groans " Mea culpa," 
and must still rely upon supernatural "salvation." Every- 
thing near and around is the work of "Satan" in du*ect 
opposition to the ideal which he blasphemously terms God ; 
he, the believer, must therefore hate it. 

Judaism, on the contrary is based on the truth that man 
is a creature of God in the world and his soul is a direct 
emanation from Him. As a production of nature he can- 
not live without the things which are necessary to maintain 
life. Being dependent on all that surrounds him, he must 
do all he can to be useful in the world, he must " cultivate 
the earth " on which he lives. Needless abstinence' is a 
reproach against Providence ; it is as if man were to reject 
with contempt things which the Creator has provided for 
13 



202 GEKSONl's SKETCHES. 

him ; as if he considered himself wiser than Providence, 
and deemed superfluous what was intended for his welfare. 
Man has no right to weaken himself, and thus deprive the 
world of the services he could render. ''''The transgress^ion 
against your blood will I visit 07i your persons^' said the 
Lord. The higher significance of man as a rational being, 
as the possessor of a soul, teaches him to discern what he 
may enjoy and what he must renounce in order to avoid 
evil consequences for himself and others. It inculcates in 
him a self-respect which prevents him from entirely sur- 
rendering himself to brutal enjoyments ; he is higher than 
the brute by virtue of his intellect. In social life he must 
regard his fellow man as a being of the same nature, 
physical and spiritual, qualified for equal achievements, 
entitled to equal aspirations. All men depend upon each 
other for their temporal and spiritual welfare. It is there- 
fore for their own interest to regard one another as brothers, 
to labor for the advancement of one another. The more a 
man acts in accordance with these principles, the higher 
does he stand in the scale of creation, the nearer does he 
approach his Creator. In harmony with all around us and 
with the eye directed to the Eternal Wisdom above us, 
we are men. 

Potozky and Zriemby studied under the guidance of 
their teacher for some time. The tiTith Avhich he unfolded 
to them was appreciated by the young noblemen. At last 
they concluded to embrace the creed of Judaism and de- 
clare themselves Jews before the world. In vain did their 
teacher try to dissuade them from doing so. Potozky was 
so sanguine in this project that he did not want to lose any 



THE CONVERTED NOBLEMEN. 203 

time in executing it. But the repeated dissuasions of his 
teacher and the calmer deliberation of his friend led him 
to content himself with the following arrangement pro- 
posed by Zriemby : 

" I will depart for Bialostoky to take possession of the 
inheritance left me by my mother. You go to Rome and 
see whether, by trying to penetrate into the philosophy of 
the Christian doctrine, and aided by the highest clergy 
there, you will not be able to find in that faith something 
equivalent to the truth of Judaism. Probe the matter 
without prejudice, and inform me of your success. In case 
you find no more light in Christianity at Rome than we 
can see here, I will certainly become a Jew too ; for I am 
as earnest a votary of the truth as yourself" 

With this resolution the two friends took leave of their 
beloved teacher and departed each to his destination. 



ZRIEMBY AND HIS BRIDE. 



When Zriemby arriveii at his native city he found his 
father lying sick. The old Hettman was overjoyed to see 
his beloved and only son once more before his death. 
He died a few days afterward, expressing it as his desire 
that his son should marry a young relative who was brought 
up in his house. Sigmund Zriemby loved the girl, it is 
true ; but the new ideas of religion and morality which 
he had conceived since he left his home had put a barrier 



204 



between them. He thought that he could never be happy 
with a woman who had different views on reUgion than 
himself. But his fathers will was sacred to him, and the 
Jewish religion of which he practically was an adherent, 
did not teach him to despise all family ties for the sake of 
his God. He resolved therefore to unfold to Xadya, his 
intended bride, the truth of his newly-adopted principles 
without revealing to her the source from which he had 
drawn them, for he knew that the mention of Judaism 
would give rise to prejudice. In order to make the girl 
more clearly see the difference between his principles and 
those of the Roman dogmas, he ingratiated himself with 
her confessor, invited him often to the house and discussed 
with him religious subjects in her presence. For some 
time Zriemby did not know what effect these religious 
studies had on the mind of his intended. Once, when the 
confessor left the house after a hot tcontroversy, Nadya 
said to her affianced : 

" Is it not curious, Sigmund, that Father Chaminsky 
always prohibited my reading the Bible ; but since he 
found out that you read it with me he insists upon my 
reading it with him also." 

" And what book does he read with you f 

" The Gospel of St. Mark ; but he always shows me par- 
allel places in the Old Testament.' 

" Does he also give you other evidences of the truth of 
the Gospel : as, for instance, sound reason ?" 

" No. He quotes, ' Believe and be saved,' when 1 ask 
him for reason." 

'* And suppose a person cannot believe against reason V 



THE CONVERTED NOBLEMEN. 205 

" He says, then, " search the scripture,' and searches it 
for me." 

" And if the scripture is not so explained as his belief 
dictates, and furnishes no evidences for his dogma ?" 

" Oh, you are provoking, Sigmund,"* exclaimed Nadya. 
*' I wanted to ask you about something, and you turned it 
so that you have become the interrogator." 

" Well, don't be aggravated, my dear ; I did it uninten- 
tionally. Now, what were you going to ask f 

" Never mind now, I will speak to you another time 
about these matter;*," and the conversation assumed a 
lighter character. 

The next day when Sigmund read the Bible with Nadya, 
and became particularly eloquent about some very poetical 
Psalm, she became thoughtful. There was an expression 
of sadness and apprehension in her face which her lover 
could not fail to notice ; he asked her the cause of her 
sorrow. 

" I am thinking of you, Sigmund," was her reply ; " you 
are so religious, and speak with such enthusiasm about re- 
ligious matters, that I am afraid you never could be happy 
with an irreligious wife." 

"But I hope I shall be happy with you, Nadya !" 

'• Would you be so if I were not as strong a believer as 
you f 

'"It would depend how far your heresy would go. Tell 
me openly, do you believe in all the teachings of the 
Bible f ' 

The girl confessed that she disbelieved many things, but 
the cause of her skepticism was Sigmund himself, with his 



206 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

constant phylosophizing and referring everything to reason. 
She could not believe many things of the New Testament, 
although Father Chaminsky explained to her those things 
by referring to the Old Testament ; but she had nothing 
against the teachings of the Old Testament, because they 
appeal to nature and sentiment. If Sigmund would ex- 
plain to her the New Testament as he explains the Old, 
she would perhaps be converted. Father Chaminsky's ex- 
planations did not suit her, they were based on belief and 
shunned reason. 

Zriemby smiled at the confession, made by his affianced 
with tears in her eyes. He assured her again that he 
hoped to be haj)py with her, and encouraged her to follow 
the dictates of her conscience without fear. 

Two months afterward Nayda became Mrs. Zriemby. 

While this was being enacted in Bialostoky, Potozky 
was pursumg his studies in Rome. He was in constant 
correspondence with Zriemby and informed the latter of 
liis progress. About two years after the two friends had 
taken leave of one another at Paris, Zriemby received a 
letter from his friend to the following effect : 

" From my former letters you will have perceived tha^ 
my experience in Rome did not tend to strengthen my ad- 
herence to the Christian dogma. I have done my best, 
and God knows that I have been without prejudice in 
quiring into the truth of the Christian religion. I have 
* weighed and counted and found it wantmg.' If the gen- 
eral class of adherents to that dogma are unreasoning 
fools, the expounders and preachers thereof are knaves : 
for they live at Rome in the greatest luxury, and indulge 



THE CONVERTED XOBLEMES'. 207 

in all sorts of pleasure — moral and otherwise — at the ex- 
pense of theu' credulous dupes. I will not speak more on 
tihs subject at present, but will inform you that in a few 
days I will depart for .\msterdam, where I intend to 
seek admission into the fold of Judaism. I hope I shall 
be perfectly justified in signing my next ' an adopted son of 
Abraham,' " etc. 

Zriemby showed this letter to his young wife. He had 
told her about his friend Potozky and his pursuits, but had 
not plainly expressed to her that his friend was testing the 
validity of his religion and comparing it with Judaism. 
He wanted to see what effect his plain statement would 
have upon her. He was much pleased to notice that she 
was not shocked at the mention of Judaism and asked her 
what she thought of the proceedings of his friend. 

"What do you think of it ?" rejoined Nadya. "You 
know Count Potozky better than I, and your judgment is 
of more importance than mine." 

" Potozky is my best friend, and I will always consider 
him so no matter what religion he professes. 

" And I will always admire the man who has the cour- 
age to follow the dictates of his conscience, in spite of a 
world of difficulties on one hand and a world of temptation 
on the other." 

Zriemby did not press the matter any further. From 
what he heard from his wife he was satisfied that she was 
quite prepared to follow him in the way he intended to go. 



208 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 



VI. 



THE ADOPTED SON OF ABEAH.A3L 

One summer morning while Zriemby was sitting with hia 
wife in the garden, his servant appeared with the announce- 
ment that a Jew was soliciting an interview with him. 

"Did he tell you his name," asked Zriemby. 

"Yes, my lord; his name is Abraham-ben -Abraham."* 

Zriemby suddenly left his place and ran to meet the 
stranger. Xayda was astonished at the deportment of her 
husband. She asked the servant : 

" What kind of man is it who asked for my husband ?'*' 

" He seems to be a man about thirty years of age. By 
his address and deportment I should never take him for a 
Jew." 

The lady sent away the servant and sank into meditation 
with her head resting on her hand. A few moments after- 
ward her husband appeared arm-in-arm with the stranger_ 
Before Zriemby had time to introduce the Jew to his wife, 
she arose to meet them, and saluting the stranger courteous- 
ly, she said: 

"Be welcome, Count Potozky ; my husband has told 
me so much about you that I should have recognized you 
even if we had met anywhere else." 

Zriemby smiled at the sagacious knowledge of his wife> 
and the stranger said : 

* All converts to Judaism assumed this name. 



THE CONVERTED NOBLEMEN. 209 

"I am very thankful for the extended welcome, and 
would be more so if it were granted b} the name I am 
bearing now. 1 am no more Count Potozky. I belong to 
an aristocracy much older, and much more noble than that 
in which I was born. The family to which I belong now 
has gained its nobility not by shedding the blood of others 
on the battle-field, but by shedding its own blood for the 
welfare and enlightenment of mankind. Its pedigree dates 
back for thousands of years and on its coat of arms is the 
sign of ' a bush in flames which is not consumed.^ My 
n:ime is Abraham-ben-Abraham." 

Nadya assured the guest of her respect for his i-eligious 
feelings, and invited him to stay in the house for some 
time. But he refused to avail himself of her hospitality ; 
he had only come to see his friend, and intended to depart 
for Wilna that very day. 

" I love my family," he said, " with all the affection of 
a child ; and desire to be near them and see them as 
often as possible. I know that they will shun my com- 
pany, or rather, that they will hate me because I follow 
the dictates of my conscience. But I am resolved to 
avoid all difficulties. I will be near them for my own 
satisfaction, and never aggravate their feelings by approach- 
ing them. In short, I will see them, but they will never 
see me. I will live among my friends, the Jews." 

Zriemby then informed his friend that he had formed a 
plan to make a voyage in foreign countries during the sum- 
mer ; he was advised by his physician to do so. His wife 
was not going to accompany him. The friends took the 
most affectionate leave of each other, and Potozky left for 
13* 



210 GEBSONl's SKETCHES. 

Wilna. A few weeks after he was a peaceful resident of 
the Jewish quarter at Wilua, studying the rabbinical wis- 
dom under the guidance of the great scholars of that com- 
munity. Nobody knew who he was. He had a passport 
from Holland, and the credentials which he had of Jewish 
rabbis of Amsterdam gave no further information than that 
he was a p"|^ "^JJ (righteous convert). 

Abraham-ben-Abraham became known in a very short 
time among all the Jews of Wilna. His piety and his de- 
votion to tlie cause of his adopted religion served as the 
best example, and cheered the hearts of those who were 
oppressed by their neighbor on account of their religion. 
He succeeded so well in his studies that he was ordained 
Rabbi, but he never officiated as such. 

One evening Rabbi Abraham saw an elderly gentleman 
coming into the synagogue where he was studying. The 
appearence of the. man was familiar to him ; but he could 
not recollect where he had seen him. All students at the 
synagogue crowded ai'ound the stranger cordially greeting 
him ; it seemed that he was very popular with them. Bab- 
bi Abraham's modesty did not allow him to push himself 
among the crowd and speak to the popular stranger ; but 
he had a great desire to know who he was. By asking 
one of the bystanders, he was informed that it was Rabbi 
Menachem Man, a man of great learning and piety, who 
had been away from Wilna for four years. A few moments 
afterward the Rabbi of the synagogue brought up Rabbi 
Menachem to the convert and introduced them to each 
other. Rabbi Abraham observed his new acquaintance 
closer, and recognized in him the man who he once met 



THE CONVERTED NOBLEMEN. 211 

in the forest of Lebanon, and whose words had made sucb 
a deep unpression on him. 

" I heard of you, Rabbi Abraham, when I was in Mohi - 
]eff," said Menachem. " Yom- glorious example is of great 
service to our creed, especeally at the present time, when 
the heart of the faithful needs cheering." 

"My eyes were opened to see the truth," rejoined the 
other modestly, " by the mercy of God^ and by the good 
example of his faithful servants. It is certainly not by my 
own merit that I embraced Judaism ; and I am enjoying 
the reward of my deed in communion with those who stand 
so much above the rest of mankind as the guardians of 
God's blessings to men." ' 

" Holland is a country of great blessing to our brethren. 
Since our race has gained an asylum there, the Amsterdam 
community has produced men whose deeds will shed a lus- 
tre upon our history for ages to come." 

" I consider Lithuania not inferior to Holland, and Wilna 
almost above Amsterdam in this respect." 

Here their conversation assumed a more confidential 
turn. Rabbi Menachem seemed to be quite astonished at 
some remarks made by his interlocutor, and exclaimed : 

" Blessed be the Lord ! Who could recognize the dash- 
ing young nobleman in — !" But he was silenced by a remark 
of Rabbi Abraham, and the conversation was continued in 
a whisper. 

Since that time the two Rabbi's were inseparable fi'iends. 
The convert treated Rabbi Menachem with the affection 
and respect of a son, and the other responded with similar 
marks of attachment and consideration. Thev were re- 



212 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

garded in the community as David and Jonathan ; but no- 
body knew the real cause of their intimacy. 



VIL 

ZRIEMBY AND HIS WIFE. 

Zriemby, in the meantime, had gone to Amsterdam and 
had embraced Judaism. He settled there to study under 
the guidance of Hebrew teachers, and wrote to his wife 
something to the following effect : 

" My beloved friend : I have embraced the religion, 
which dictates the laws of moralty, justice and kindness in 
a manner most consistent with the nature of man ; I have 
become a Jew. 1 am morally certain that your religious 
views perfectly agree with my own in so far as I have had 
the opportunity of developing in your mind an appreciation 
of the truth. But you are a woman, and prejudice may 
have a stronger hold on your heart than on that of a man ; 
I therefore did not reveal to you my intention of becoming 
:a Jew. You are at liberty now to follow the dictates of 
your conscience. I bequeath to you all my earthly pos- 
sessions which I left at home : the little I have taken with 
me will suffice to sustain me alone here, and the God of 
Abraham whom I worship will grant me the light of his 
truth to cheer my moral existence. I reflected much before 
1 executed my design, and I came to the conclusion that it 
would be very ignoble in me te remain a nominal Christian 
;and play a double-faced role in society ; and having become 



THE CONVERTED NOBLEMEN. 218 

convinced of the truth of Judaism I could not deny the 
yearning of my soul toward its Creator ; therefore I have 
striven to attach myself to the noble race of Abraham, and 
now have the priviledge of addressing you as 

AbR A II AM-BEN- Ab R A f I A M. " 

Three months after this incident, a very touching scene 
was enacted before the Chief Rabbi of Amsterdam. A 
young woman appeared before him and addressed him : 

" Most honored Sir, I am not of your persuasion, but I 
hope that this will not be the cause of your denying me 
justice. I came to ask your decision in a matter of great 
importance. I will pledge my honor that you will be 
obeyed if the case is decided against the party which I rep- 
resent : but I also request you to use your influence with 
the other party, that he should follow your decision if it is 
against him. He is an Israelite and belongs to your com- 
munity." 

" Tell me thy case, my daughter ; I have no doubt that 
my decision will be obeyed by any member of our commu- 
nity without resistance." 

"Allow me then, Rabbi, to state the case without 
naming persons first. Two friends made an agreement, 
before Christian authorities, that they would be true to 
one another in all their dealings ; that neither of them 
would enjoy an}i:hing without the knowledge of the other ; 
and whatever one of them should discover as being advan- 
tageous to social or moral life, he should immediately in 
form the other of his discovery and let him participate in 
it. For three years did those parties live together in har- 
mony and true to their agreement. Subsequently one of 



S14 GEKSONl's SKETCHES. 

them found a new pursuit in life which procured him hap - 
piness, and he began to follow it without giving any in- 
formation to his partner either of the new pui'suit or of his 
resolution to part with him, until after the deed was ac- 
complished. It happened that the new pursuit was of a 
nature which is perfectly agreeable to the other partner. 
Now I want you to decide whether the deserted partner has 
a right to insist that the partnership be continued, as the 
term of then* agi'eement has rfot yet expired, or is the 
contract not binding because it was made before Christian 
authorities, and the deserter is a Jew?" 

The liabbi thought for a few minutes and asked her 
under what circumstances the agreement was entered into, 
and whether one of the parties was not forced by authority 
or allured by deceit into making the contract. He then 
told her that he could not give his decision immediately. 
As she did not want to name the parties concerned, he 
had to consult two or three other Rabbi's before he de- 
cided the matter. If she would come to-morrow she 
would find him prepared to give his opinion. 

The next day she came and found a concilium of three 
Rabbis in session, the chief Rabbi presiding. She nar- 
rated the case before the council, and answered the questions 
put by them. The Rabbis consulted among themselves, 
referred to some books, and finally the chief Rabbi said : 

" Well, my daughter, according to your statement to 
the case we have come to the conclusion that the contract 
is binding and valid, the deserter must keep his promise or 
pay whatever the deserted party would reasonably demand. 
But if the guilty party should have anything to state which 



THE CONVERTED NOBLEMEN. 215 

should weaken the strength of your statements, our decision 
naust be reconsidered." Tlie lady brightened as the Rabbi 
spoke and said : 

" Now, Rabbi, would you please summon the convert 
Abraham-ben- Abraham of Bialostoky 1 He is one of the 
parties, I am the other. 1 will then speak before you in 
his presence without reserve." 

The convert was summoned. As soon as he appeared 
in the apartment he became pale, and with an agitated 
voice exclaimed, in the Lithuanian language : " Nadya, for 
heaven's sake, what are you doing here !" 

The rabbis looked astonished, and Nadya said, in Ger- 
man : 

" I came here to seek my husband. Abraham-ben- 
Abraham, born Sigmund Zriemby, swore before God that 
he would love, honor and protect me all the days we ai'e 
spared to each other, lie promised to let me participate 
in all his joys and sorrows. He deserted me on account 
of his love for the Jewish religion. Now if I solemnly 
declare that [ have the same predilection for this religion 
and will gladly embrace it even if he does reject me as his 
wile, is the promise which he gave in a Christian church 
binding on, him or not t"' 

The Rabbis changed looks of astonishment. The pre- 
siding Rabbi then, in a lengthy and kind discourse, tried 
to persuade Nadya that she would never be happy if she 
embraced another religion only for the sake of her attach- 
ment to a Jew ; that although the marrige agreement was 
binding on Abraham, he would not advise her to insist 
upon a nuptial alliance with him at the expense of her 



216 GERSONl's SKETCHES. 

conscience, of her soul ; and that she had aright to demand 
of her husband her sustenance and remain a Christian in 
separation from him. But Nadya persisted in her assertion 
that she would become a Jewess whether the wife of 
Abraham or not. At last the Rabbi said : 

" Go and demand thy rights from thy husband. Thy 
name shall henceforth be Sarah, the daughter of Abraham ; 
and may the God of Abraham's praise prosper your house 
in Israel that it shall become a blessing for generations to 
come." 

All present answered " Amen," and the convert threw 
himself sobbing in the arms of his Sarah. 



VIII. 



MOTHER AND SON. 



One winter evning in 1749, there was a rumor in the 
synagogue of Wilna that the old Count Potozky had died. 
Some Israelites who rejoiced over this incident, because 
the enemies of the Jews had lost then- champion by the 
death of this nobleman, were checked by the more reason- 
able of their brethern who recited: "Thou shalt not 
rejoice at the fall of thine enemy;" besides Potozky had 
not been such a zealous persecutor of the Jews since he 
lost his only son. When Rabbi Menachem Man heard the 
rumor, he requested his colleagues not to speak about it in 



THE CONVERTED NOBLEMEN. 217 

the synagogue. On the next day his intimate friend, the 
convert, appeared in the synagogue with a mourner's rent in 
his coat, and recited the mourner's prayer. 

One month afterward, when old Madam Potozky came to 
ttie grave of her husband to strew spring flowers upon it 
she was astonished to find a Jew reclining on the tomb- 
stone apparantly in deep grief 

" My friend," said the lady to the Israelite, ''I am glad 
to see one of your race mourning the loss of my husband. 
It shows me that one of you, at least, acknowledges that 
whiitever my husband did against the Jews was with the 
intention of converting them and of saving their souls." 

" Madam," answered the son of Abraham, " I would beg 
to state that the cause of my grief is quite different from what 
you suppose. Let not his behavior against my people be 
mentioned here, at the grave of Count Potozky. May God 
have mercy on his soul !" While he spoke the old lady, 
deeply moved, looked at him with astonishment. 

"In the name of all that is holy, Avho are you f she 
exclaimed. " Your voice reminds me of some one very 
dear to my heart, and your deportment is not that of a 
Jew." 

" I am a Je'w, my lady," answered the Israelite with a 
trembling voice, and turned to go. 

*' Stop, for heaven's sake ! I must know something more 
of you. Are you a native of this city 1 Have you a family ? 
Where do you reside f 

" I am a Jew of this city. I cannot stay here. Good- 
bye," he answered with a voice almost choked with emotion 
and went quickly away. The lady remained for a few mo- 



218 



ments stunned, looking after the disappearing figure of the 
Israelite. 

" Does my motherly heart deceive me f she soliloquized. 
" It was the voice of my Valentine ; it is the figure of 
my Valentine. — My Valentine a Jew, what an absurdity I 
Jesus, Maria and Joseph, how could such a thought ever 
cross my mind ! But what could any other Jew want here 
upon the grave of Count Potozky ? That expression of 
sorrow in his face — that trembling voice ! I must find him 
and speak to him again." She hastily left the cemetery 
and ordered her carriage to be thrown open. . While on her 
way to the city she scrutinized every man whom she passed, 
but she could not find the one she had seen in the church- 
yard. There was only one way to the city, and the man 
could not have walked faster than the horses. He must 
have stopped somewhere on the road. Reaching the 
city she ordered the driver to return. She examined the 
people again ; but all was of no avail. The person who had 
been in the graveyard had purposely avoided her, taking his 
way over the mountain to the city. He was not to be .found 
on the road. 

Lady Potozky made all eflTorts to discover the mysterious 
Israelite. She sent messengers to the synagogues around 
Wilna, giving them a minute description of the man she 
had seen on the grave of her husband, and promising the 
highest reward to the one who would bring him to her. But 
all her endeavors failed. It was Abraham, the convert, 
whom she had seen there. His filial love urged him to visit 
the resting place of his father, and it was the same emotion 
that made his voice tremble when he spoke to his mother^ 



THE CONVERTED NOBLEMAN. 219 

who knew him not. When he returned to the city and told 
his friend, Rabbi Menachem, of his encounter, the latter 
said: 

" I have a presentiment of evil. If your mother finds 
you, she will certainly desire you to renounce Judaism." 

" I will rather die the death of a martyr," rejoined Rabbi 
Abraham, "than renounce the faith I have embraced." 

" That is not the worst. If they discover you, and you 
remain persistent, God alone knows how many of our 
brethren will have to suffer for your conversion. They will 
not believe your statements and will accuse the most prom- 
inent members of our community of having misled you. 
My advice is, that you leave the city and go to some 
small town. The sooner you go the better, for Lady 
Potozky will certainly search for you. Her mother's 
instinct will tell her the truth, and who knows but what 
she may draw priestcraft into her council, and then — may 
the God of Abraham have mercy on us !" 

Abraham left Wilna with a sorrowful heart. It was hard 
for him to part with his friends, among whom he felt so 
happy. Were it not for the fear of drawing others into 
misfortune nothing could induce him to leave Wilna. But 
his precaution was useless. God willed it that he should 
attest with his blood the sincerity of his belief 



220 



IX. 



MARTYRDOM. 



The apprehension of R. Menachem Man proved to be 
well founded. Lady Potozky not being able to find the 
man she had met, told the story of her meeting to her con- 
fessor and requested his advice and cooperation. The 
priest was not long in search for a plan to discover the 
mysterious Jew. He had a Jewish convert in his monastery 
who belonged to the community of Wilna. He proposed 
to employ that man to ferret out the mystery. The lady 
gave her consent and the priest commenced operations 
on the morrow. A few days afterward Rabbi Menachem 
Man was summoned to Lady Potozky and asked the where- 
abouts of R. Abraham, his intimate friend. 

" He left Wilna about ten days ago," answered R. 
Menachem. " I know not whither he has gone." 

Nothing more could be extracted from him either by 
threats or by promises of reward. He was incarcerated in 
the monastery of St. Peter, and examined every day on 
the subject. Several times did the priest subject the old 
Rabbi to tortures in order to press out of him some infor- 
mation. But it was of no use ; he said nothing more than 
he had said before. About a week after the imprisoning 
of R. Menachem Man, when Lady Potozky was driving 



THE CONVERTED NOBLEMEN. 221 

in the surburbs, she noticed an Israelite walking toward 
the city with a bundle on his shoulders. She looked 
closer at him and recognized the man whom she sought. 
She immediately stopped the carriage and alighted to meet 
the wanderer. The Jew was a little confused when he saw 
the lady, but he soon recovered himself and saluted her 
courteously. 

'* I am pleased to find you so unexpectedly," the lady 
said. " I have been desirous of seeing you again ever since 
I met you at the grave of my husband." 

" And what may Lady Potozky want of an Israelite V 

" Of a Jew I want nothing," rejoined the lady, " but I 
want you to tell me who you are and where you were 
born f ' 

" You see, my lady, that I am a Jew, and my birth may 
be of little interest to you. I heard," he added with an 
effort, " that you were seeking me, and that in order to find 
out where I was you imprisoned a venerable, learned man 
whose only fault is that he has been a dear friend to me 
since I came a stranger to this city. This way of satis- 
fying a curiosity seems to me somewhat unusual." 

"It is not mere curiosity," the lady exclaimed ;" the 
more I hear you the more am I impressed with the idea 
that you are not a Jew. Valentine 1 why did you desert 
yom- mother !" And she threw herself in his arms. 

For a few moments R. Abraham held his mother in his 
embraces kissing her ardently. At last he said : 

" Yes, mother, you have recognized me ; but my name 
is Abraham, and I am an adopted son of Abraham the 
Patriarch. My heart was yearning for your motherly 



222 aERSONl's SKETCHES. 

embrace, but I knew that you would be prejudiced against 
my religious principles, and therefore kept myself away. 
Promise me now not to encroach upon the liberty of my 
conscience and to release my friend from prison, and you 
will see me as often as you wish. The Law of God en> 
joins me to fulfill all ray filial duties toward you, only not 
at the expense of my soul. Rabbi Menachem did not 
know where I was, I heard ol his imprisonment from a 
stranger, and came to liberate him at any sacrifice. The 
day he is set fi'ee you will see me again, not sooner." He 
abruptly left the lady who stood all amazed while he spoke, 
and disappeared in an adjoining forest. 

Lady Potozky hastened home and sent for her confessor. 
The next day Rabbi Menachem Man was released from 
prison. Rabbi Abraham, true to his promise, went to see 
his mother. Nobody knows what passed between lady Po- 
tozky and her son ; but for a few weeks there seemed to 
be a perfect understanding between them. He lived in 
the Jewish quarter and studied in the synagogue as before, 
and went every day to visit his mother for a few hours. 
Such a peaceful state of affairs could not continue for a 
long time when the ministers of the Roman Catholic church 
had a hand in the matter. About three weeks after the 
feast of tiie Passover, Rabbi Abraham-ben- Abraham was 
taken to state-prison on the charge of profaning the 
Christian religion. It seems that this was done against 
the will of his mother, for she endeavored to obtain his 
freedom. But all her efforts were of no avail ; sentence 
was passed on her son that he either renounce Judaism or 
be beheaded in the market-place in Wilna. In vain did 



THE CONVERTED NOBLEMEN. 223 

the unfortunate mother try to persuade her son to renounce 
his adopted religion and save his life. He was resolved 
to die for his principles. Lady Potozky, seeing that there 
was no hope for her son at Wilna, repaired to Warsaw to 
apply directly to the king. 

It was on a Saturday, the second day of the Feast of 
Weeks in the year 5509 (1749), when- the sentence pro- 
nounced against Rabbi Abraham-ben- Abraham was to be 
executed. In all the synagogues of Wilna and the 
neighboring cities the most fervent prayers were offered 
for the converted nobleman. At ten o'clock in the morning 
the dead-march resounded in the streets of Wilna. Rabbi 
Abraham-ben- Abraham was led to execution. A curious 
mob surrounded the procession. A few Israelites followed 
fi'om a distance, crying bitterly. Near by was a pyre 
where the body of the convert was to be burned after being 
beheaded. Pious Christian women were feeding the flames 
with fresh wood. A Roman Catholic bishop and the ex- 
ecutioner awaited the convict on the scaffold. The Bishop 
with a mitre, a gown all laced with gold, and a large cros& 
in his hand, and the executioner dressed in red, holding the 
polished axe which glittered in the sun, were the objects 
toward which all eyes were turned. 

At last the procession arrived. Rabbi Abraham-ben- 
Abraham cheerfully mounted the scaffold. A low murmur 
arose from the multitude at his appearance. His gi-aceful 
and undaunted demeanor impressed all by-standers. The 
Bishop raised the cross and addressed the convict in a long 
harangue, telling him that if he would renounce Judaism 
his life would be granted to him. 



224 



"You are illogical, my dear sir," replied Rabbi Abraham 
with a smile. " You cannot grant life, you can only take 
it. I believe in ' One God — there is none beside him.' 
' Hear O, Israel, the Eternal our God is One in Unity !' " 
The Bishop pronounced anathema and raised his cross. 
The executioner's axe glittered in the sun at the same instant, 
and Rabbi Abraham-ben- A'braham's spirit rose toward the 
source of life and light. 

At the same instant a courier's trumpet was heard. In a 
moment the old Lady Potozky arrived at the scaffold in 
the greatest haste, waving a paper in her hand. It was an 
authograph fi'om the king, pardoning the offense of her 
son and suspending his sentence. But she had brought it just 
too late. The head of her son was lying at her feet. She 
fainted on the spot and died a few hours afterward. Rabbi 
Abraham's remains were burned on the pyre the same day. 

A God-fearing Israelite, Eliezer Zinkes by name, gath- 
ered the ashes of the martyr, at the risk of falling into the 
hands of zealous Christians and being cruely dealt with 
for the crime, and buried them in the Jewish cemetery 
where the Pear-tree now stands. 



END. 





SKETCHES 



JEWISH LIFE AND HISTORY, I 



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HENKY GEESOXI. 



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To be but useful is nny ainn. 



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